


The Bard and The Wolf

by Arvari



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, I Blame It All On Joey Batey, Idiots in Love, M/M, Metal Band AU, Mutual Pining, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Slow Burn, aka The AU You Didn't Know You Needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 59,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23794537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arvari/pseuds/Arvari
Summary: When Jaskier's band, Dandelions, suddenly kicks him out, he accidentally finds himself a place in another one - Kaer Morhen, a band he'd always considered to be his rivals.And maybe, just maybe, they're not as bad as he'd thought. And maybe their frontman, who calls himself The White Wolf, isn't such an idiot after all...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Countess de Stael
Comments: 320
Kudos: 685





	1. Endings And Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, I'd never have thought I would write a Witcher fic, let alone a multichapter one. Or a Geraskier one. Because honestly, Geraskier? It hadn't even occured to me until I saw the series on Netflix. Honestly, I blame it all on Joey Batey. (Don't judge me, I've been listening almost exclusively to The Amazing Devil for the past few weeks, and it seems it's left its marks.)  
> But this idea started as a tiny little seed in my brain, and it took root and grew and grew and refused to be ignored. So... here we are. I hope you enjoy the start of this new fic, just as much as I enjoy writing it. :) (Because seriously, I haven't felt this excited for writing a fic in YEARS...)

“ _Kaer Morhen_ are a bunch of morons, that’s all I’m saying,” said Jaskier, running his fingers through his brown hair to make it more _artistically ruffled_.

“Yes, Jaskier. We know,” Dave, the guitarist, growled and rolled his eyes.

“But you know which one of them is the worst?”

“Do tell,” Dave sighed.

“That lead singer of theirs, of course,” Jaskier smirked. “Geralt of Rivia. The Witcher. The White Wolf. Honey, how many nicknames do you _need_? You’re in a fucking metal band, dear heart, this is not some kind of a larp!”

Mike, the drummer, raised his hand.

“Is that why you call yourself The Bard?”

“That’s… Yeah, that isn’t any different,” Jaskier sighed. “Fuck. I just wish they weren’t so damn _good_.”

“They’re pretty good, yeah,” Dave agreed.

“More like we’re pretty shit,” Mike said.

“Oh, come on, guys. We’re not _shit_. We just… Need to find ourselves, that’s all. Actually, I have a few songs I think you might like, just here, in my...”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Julian,” Dave said, just the second someone knocked at the door of their rehearsal room.

“Jaskier,” he said automatically, turning his head to see who the newcomer was. He blinked. “And what exactly is _this bitch_ doing here?”

“Yeah, we wanted to tell you before he comes, but… never mind,” Dave shrugged. “We know we’re not shit, Julian. You’re shit. So… This is our new singer.”

Jaskier blinked, several times, his brain doing its very best to process what was happening here. He was sure he must have misheard, because _surely_ Dave didn’t just say that…

“Valdo Marx,” he growled. “You fire me and hire fucking _Valdo Marx_ as your lead singer?!”

“Basically,” Mike nodded. “Sorry, Jules.”

“You can’t do this,” Jaskier said, though the argument sounded weak even to his own ears. “Dandelions are _my_ band. Mine.”

“Were,” the newcomer said. Jaskier took a proper look at him. The bitch had blonde hair, styled basically the same as himself, bright green eyes, tight black pants and a silk shirt with its top buttons undone, just as Jaskier wore it… He even copied the goddamn eyeliner.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Jaskier said. He felt his voice begin to tremble.

“We’re not,” Dave said. “Really sorry, Julian.”

“Yeah, sorry, not sorry, Julian,” Valdo smirked. “Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”

Tears welled up in Jaskier’s eyes. No, this won’t do. He won’t let them see him cry. Also, _artfully smudged_ eyeliner was fine, but tear-smudged? He won’t be caught dead with tear-smudged eyeliner.

So he grabbed his bag and his guitar and got to his feet.

“Yeah, right. As you wish, fuckers,” he growled. “See you never.”

He had to pass Valdo on his way out and it took all his willpower not to punch the son of a bitch in his ugly, smirking face.

He wasn’t even out of the building yet when the tears began to spill.

He wasn’t sure where he was going. He was just walking. When he was walking, the sadness wasn’t so bad. He was afraid to stop, because he was pretty sure that if he did, he would surely fall apart. That was also the reason why he didn’t just go home, no matter how much he wanted to.

He didn’t want to have to process the fact that he had been kicked out of _his_ band just like that. _His_. The band he put together, the band he wrote lyrics and music for, the band that he had kept together for the past two years. And then those bitches decide that _he_ ’s not worth their time anymore?!

Maybe he should have tried more. He should have told them they were welcome to have their own band without him, but he shouldn’t have let him used the name, _Dandelions_ , the name _he himself_ chose…

He was forced to stop dead in his tracks when a door he was just about to pass got thrown open and a dark-haired woman stormed out, followed by a tall and muscular white-haired man dressed all in black.

Jaskier gulped, because while he didn’t immediately recognize the woman (mainly because she was busy stomping towards a nearby car), he would recognize the man anywhere.

Geralt of Rivia. The Witcher. And the lead singer of Kaer Morhen, the very band Jaskier had dramatically proclaimed his rivals.

Which meant that the woman had to be…

“Yennefer,” Geralt sighed. “Come on.”

“No. I’m, done,” she said, opening the car door. “I’ve heard enough. Either you get Lambert and Renfri under control, or I’m _out of here_. I won’t be called a witch–”

“They didn’t mean it like that and you know it.”

“Neither will I be called a _bitch_ , Geralt, and they definitely meant _that_!” she growled. “It’s your decision. Me, or them?”

Silence fell for a few seconds. Geralt stared at the woman, she stared back at him. Finally, she cocked up an eyebrow and he crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive manner.

“Oh. You mean I should decide _now_?” he asked.

She chuckled in a way that made it clear that she was desperately trying not to rip his head off.

“You know what? Go to hell, Geralt. Keep your merry band. I’m out. Good luck finding a new singer, you bitch.”

With that, she got in her car and slammed the door shut.

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered and turned back to the building, just as Yennefer drove off. He stopped and blinked when he saw Jaskier standing there, his mouth agape.

“Uhm,” Jaskier managed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to… watch that. I just… nearly got hit by that door, and before I realized what was happening, she was already yelling at you and… sorry. Leaving now. Sorry. Really sorry. I’m already gone, see?”

“Wait,” Geralt said, his voice deep and husky. “You’re the singer from Dandelions, aren’t you? That… bard.”

“The Bard,” Jaskier corrected before he could think better of it.

“Yeah. Jaskier, isn’t it?” the White Wolf smirked, and Jaskier could feel his heart flutter. Christ. The guy knew his name?

“That’s me,” he said as casually as he could manage. “But you’re wrong about the Dandelions thing. I’m the… former… singer. I’ve just been kicked out.”

“Wow. Sucks,” said a voice from the door. Jaskier turned his head to see a young woman standing there. She had dark, wavy hair that barely reached her shoulders, and her face was almost too cute for a metal band. “You look like you need a drink, buttercup. Where’s our witch, Geralt?”

“Gone,” Geralt smirked. “Did you really have to call her a _bitch_ , Renfri?”

“That wasn’t me, but Lambert. _I_ only call her a witch,” she protested. “Are you going to invite this kicked puppy in, or are you waiting for him to break down?”

“Oh, no, no, I...” Jaskier swallowed and tried to blink back the tears. “I really should be going. Sorry about the whole… witnessing this. Nice to meet you, I guess. I… okay, I really should be shutting up. See you around.”

“Wait. Bard,” said Geralt’s husky voice and Jaskier’s legs refused to cooperate. “Come in and have a drink with us. You really look like you need it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do, actually.”

And he did.

Was he really gonna have the aforementioned drink with the members of Kaer Morhen, though?

Apparently.

Why?

Damned if he knew.

Before he could change his mind, he took a deep breath and followed Renfri and Geralt into the building.

_Oh, dear, this was a bad idea_ , he thought when he stepped into the rehearsal room and all the eyes turned to him.

“Geralt?” said a tall, long-haired man who was sprawled on one of the sofas in the room. “Hate to tell you this, but if your _ex_ didn’t suddenly change her _sex_ , you might have grabbed the wrong person outside.”

_A very, very bad idea. What were you thinking, stupid, stupid–_

“Jaskier!” a girl’s voice squeaked. “Oh my god, that’s _Jaskier_! From Dandelions!”

“I probably failed to mention,” Geralt, who was standing next to Jaskier, smirked, “that my daughter, who just happens to be here, adores your music.”

“Wow. Thanks,” Jaskier muttered. “So you didn’t invite me for a drink, but just to show me off to your daughter?”

“Both, actually,” Geralt shrugged and turned to a young blonde (seriously, she could be barely fifteen) standing in front of them with her bright eyes wide, clearly unsure what she should do. “Jaskier, this is Ciri. Ciri… Well, you know who this is.”

“Yes. _Jaskier_ ,” she repeated, and he was starting to feel a little better, because at least _someone_ in this world apparently liked him. “From–”

“Formerly. Sorry. I’ve just been kicked out,” he blurted before he could think better of it. Only when he saw her eyes going impossibly wider did he realize his mistake.

“Dandelions are a bunch of dicks,” Renfri said, handing him a glass of bright golden liquid. “Don’t look at me like that, Geralt, Ciri’s heard worse.”

“Besides, it’s true. They are a bunch of dicks,” Jaskier said, accepting the glass and downing the contents in a single gulp. That was his second mistake in the last few seconds, because his throat immediately started to feel like it was on fire. “Holy flipping...” he croaked. “Oh, dear, this is gonna put even more hair on my chest. Wow. What the hell was that?!”

“Rule number one, never ask Renfri what is the drink she just gave you. Trust me, you don’t wanna know,” the last man in the room laughed.

“Shut it, Eskel,” Renfri said. “It’s perfectly safe.”

“I’m sorry, my hangover from yesterday begs to differ,” said the tall man on the sofa.

“And you too, Lambert,” Renfri growled. “I didn’t force half a _bottle_ down your throat, you–”

“Enough,” Geralt said, and the room went quiet. “Cirilla, stop gaping. Jaskier, sit down. In fact, _everyone_ , sit down.”

“Uhm, thanks,” Jaskier muttered. “But I probably should be going. I mean...”

“Sit,” Geralt repeated. “Renfri, another drink. Cirilla, what have I just told you?”

“How… They can’t just kick you out!” Ciri exclaimed. “It’s your band!”

“Was,” Jaskier shrugged, deciding to claim a nearby chair. He was really starting to regret ever coming here. He really didn’t want to have to explain, but this girl was looking at him with those big, sorrowful eyes… “They thought I was shit. So now… It’s Valdo Marx’s band.”

“Valdo Marx?” Renfri said. “Isn’t that the ass who was following us around last month, dressed all in black, trying to convince us he’s better than Geralt?”

“Yeah, I think that’s him,” Lambert agreed. “Shame he’s taken. We could have slapped a wig on his head and pretended he’s Yennefer. Uhm, _where_ is our lovely queen, by the way? Waiting for you to come running after her, as usual?”

“I don’t think so. It seemed she really meant it when she said she was leaving for good,” Geralt sighed.

“You know mother’s always dramatic,” Ciri said and sat down in a chair next to Jaskier’s. “She’ll be back before we know it. Or we can slap a wig on Jaskier here and pretend it’s her.”

“Oh, dear heart, I don’t think I’m pretty enough to pull that off,” Jaskier laughed. He was still feeling like shit, but he was kind of glad for this distraction. Besides, the thought of Valdo Marx in a long wig was just hilarious. And the booze was great. He didn’t know how, but he was already on his fourth glass.

“Besides, if she’s not coming back, we need someone who can sing things like… like… Song of the White Wolf,” Eskel said.

It was the alcohol. It had to be the alcohol. There was no other logical explanation of why Jaskier cleared his throat, took a deep breath and began to sing a song he’d only ever sung in the privacy of his shower.

“The call of the White Wolf is loudest at the dawn… The call of a stone heart is broken and alone… Born of Kaer Morhen… Born of No Love… The song of the White Wolf is cold as driven snow...”

He realized the room had went completely silent, so he shut up and opened the eyes he didn’t even remember closing. Everyone was staring at him. Especially Ciri. _And_ her father.

“Well,” Eskel said. “I meant a chick. But this was good. If we ever need someone to replace _Geralt_...”

“You won’t replace me with him,” Geralt argued. “I’m the growl. This is a clean vocal. Damned good clean vocal, too. But as you said, even if Yennefer isn’t coming back, we need a female singer.”

“Shame,” Ciri said. “I’d really like to hear you sing a duet with dad.”

“Honey, I’m afraid I’m really not the right singer for a _metal_ band,” Jaskier laughed. “The best I can do is sing you The Fishmonger’s Daughter.”

Ciri’s whole face lit up like a candle at that.

“You can?” she asked, her eyes immediately going to her father for confirmation.

“Uhm, I mean,” Jaskier said as he felt blood rushing to his face. “I shouldn’t, it’s not a song for, uhm, _young listeners_...”

“Don’t worry about it. She knows the terrible thing by heart,” Geralt chuckled. “Just sing. We’ll survive. Your voice isn’t the worst thing that can happen to us today.”

“Definitely better than Valdo Marx,” Renfri chuckled.

“I certainly hope so,” Jaskier said, looking around. “Right, in that case, I need my lovely guitar...”

A few days later, Jaskier had almost forgotten all about this little encounter. He spent the afternoon with Kaer Morhen (and Ciri), sang them a few funny songs and left, his legs only slightly unsteady.

He thought nothing of it. But then there came the call from an unknown number.

“Jaskier,” he said when he answered.

“Hello,” said the voice from the phone. “This is Geralt. From Kaer Morhen,” the voice added. As if Jaskier needed that clarification. As if he didn’t recognize him just from the _Hello_.

“Oh. Fuck,” Jaskier swore helpfully. “I mean… Hi. How can I help you? If there’s any lasting damage to your daughter’s mental health caused by my songs, I would like to remind you that I _definitely_ told you they weren’t–”

“You’re in.”

“Ex…cuse me?”

“Yennefer refuses to come back. That means we need a clean vocalist.”

“Yes. Uhm. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I’m definitely _not_ female. And that whole thing with a wig won’t work, I mean, I would need like three razors only to shave my chest, don’t get me started about my _legs_...”

“We’ve changed our mind. We don’t want a female singer. We want you.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Jaskier muttered. “How… How did you even get my number?”

“From a fan you slept with.”

“Yeah, that narrows it down.”

Geralt chuckled.

“Look, I’m giving you this chance because Ciri and Renfri have been nagging me for days now, and because we… we all think you are really good. And we would like to try and play a few songs with you, for a start, and then… then we’ll see what happens.”

“My god,” Jaskier sighed. “You are serious, aren’t you?”

“Dead serious,” Geralt agreed. “By the way, remember that Battle of the Bands that happens in two months? The one that Dandelions are participating in?”

“The one for the record contract?”

“That one,” Geralt said. “I just want you to know Kaer Morhen are also taking part in it. So if you want a chance to kick Valdo Marx’s ass...”

Jaskier’s breath hitched in his throat. He could almost feel Geralt smiling at the other end of the line. That goddamned Wolf was playing him like a lute, and Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to mind.

“I’m in,” he said.

He heard a girl squeal somewhere near Geralt, and the Wolf let out a tiny laugh.

“Our rehearsal room, tonight at seven. Does that work for you, or do you have a date with some other fan?”

“Only with Netflix and a bottle of wine, and I can definitely reschedule that,” Jaskier said. “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” Geralt said. “We’ll be looking forward to seeing you.”

And Jaskier’s heart definitely didn’t _flutter_ when he heard those words…

Five minutes later, Jaskier decided to finally do a thing he had been putting off for days and opened his Instagram. He knew it was flooded with questions about him apparently throwing Dandelions under a bus and deciding, quite suddenly, to leave. He found _that_ out when he accidentally opened the app once, just after leaving Kaer Morhen’s rehearsal room, and saw about twenty messages and comments. And that was only a start. Two hours later he was forced to turn the notifications off.

The Dandelions were really quick getting the news out, he had to give them that.

He opened the app, ignored all the messages and went straight to adding a new photo. He knew exactly what he wanted to post. He’d been thinking about it for days.

There was a photo in his phone he was really proud of – a dandelion going to seed. He’s taken the photo that spring. The angle was perfect, the lighting was perfect, everything was just _perfect_ , but back then, the picture seemed too depressing to post. But right now, it was… Well, perfect.

So he used a black-and-white filter and took a deep breath before he started to type a comment.

_Hello, my darlings. As many of you already know, I parted ways with Dandelions – well, in fact, it was the other way around and it were Dandelions who parted ways with me. I won’t give any details, so don’t even bother asking. But don’t worry. Because when a dandelion goes out of bloom, it releases seeds that can take root… well, anywhere. What I want to say – this isn’t the end of my story, quite the opposite. And I’m already taking root, dear hearts. And trust me – if it works out, it’s going to be BIG!_

_#dandelions #newbeginnings #justwaitforit_


	2. Breathe, Buttercup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! :) Look who's back with a new chapter! I want to thank you all so much for all your lovely comments under chapter one (I'll get around to reply to every one of them, I swear!), because they really made me want to write more and faster than I thought I would be. :)  
> So enjoy this new chapter, and I promise, more is coming soon - I've managed (completely unexpectedly) to become quite obsessed with this fic...

Silence fell when he walked into the Kaer Morhen’s rehearsal room, and he immediately started to question his choice of clothes.

Yes, he was wearing the same tight black pants as he did the last time. But he’d rummaged through his wardrobe and found a V-neck black T-shirt and a long black vest to go with it (and it _might_ have been a ladies’ vest, but he quite honestly didn’t care), and also a pair of heavy leather boots he used to wear when he was sixteen. His eyes were framed by black eyeliner, and he couldn’t resist putting a little bit of lip gloss on his lips.

He was convinced he looked stunning, until he saw all the band members staring at him.

God, was he trying too hard? Come on, those were metalheads, he clearly wasn’t one of them, why was he even…

And Geralt’s face was completely blank, Christ, but his amber eyes went a little wider. Was it disapproval? It had to be disapproval.

Luckily for Jaskier, someone decided to speak before his anxious brain could force him to turn on his heel and run.

“Oh, wow,” Renfri said. “You look gorgeous, buttercup.”

“Uhm,” Jaskier blinked, his racing mind coming to a sudden stop. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Lambert grinned. “Definitely looks much better than the pink shirt you were wearing last time.”

“That was magenta, not pink,” Jaskier said automatically.

“Right,” Lambert laughed. “As if there’s any difference.”

“Well, _actually_...” Jaskier started, but then Geralt smirked.

“Actually, there’s a _massive_ difference, according to Ciri,” he said. “When I said I wasn’t sure if the pink shirt would fit our image, she rolled her eyes and said _Jeez, dad, that was MAGENTA_. I got a bit lost after that, so I don’t know what _exactly_ the difference is, sorry.”

“Honestly, I don’t really need the explanation. He was pink. He’s not pink anymore. That’s good enough for me,” Lambert said.

“Ciri’s gonna be disappointed, though,” Renfri commented. “She was so looking forward to taking you shopping to find you something _proper_ to wear...”

“She still can. I mean, those are my only black clothes,” Jaskier smirked, gesturing to his attire. “And it took me _ages_ to dig out that T-shirt. Also, there definitely isn’t any mysterious hole on the back I had to cover with the vest, oh, no. And I have literally _no_ _proper_ accessories, except for the boots, and they’re like twelve years old.”

“Well, look who’s taking his new role as a metal singer _very_ seriously,” Eskel nodded. “I’m starting to be glad Geralt insisted on giving you the chance.”

“I think that’s enough,” Geralt said, shooting Eskel a seemingly warning glance. “We should start.”

“Oh, good. Are we gonna introduce ourselves like we’re in school?” Eskel smirked. “Name, instrument, favorite drink...”

“No need,” Jaskier said. “I mean… For names and positions. Eskel, drums. Renfri, guitar. Lambert, bass.”

“And how do you know that?” Lambert said, cocking his eyebrow.

“I’m least likely to have sex with you. So you have to be the bassist, obviously,” Jaskier shrugged.

“And since he knows the lyrics to White Wolf, he’s obviously seen us play live before, Sherlock,” Renfri grinned. “Just out of curiosity, who are you _most_ likely to have sex with?”

“A gentleman doesn’t tell, darling.”

“Is it Geralt?”

“Enough,” Geralt growled. “I wasn’t even going to say we should introduce–”

“I think _Jaskier_ should definitely introduce himself,” Eskel said. “We should have more information about him before we decide whether we want him in the band or not.”

“Right. Sure,” Jaskier nodded. “It’s fair. So, my name is Jaskier, as you all know. Yes, technically it’s a stage name, but it’s also the name I prefer. I like fine wine, fine music, fine… company.”

“If this is the way you’re trying to tell us you’re _gay_...” Lambert smirked.

“Bisexual, in fact,” Jaskier smiled. “ _Pan_ sexual, technically speaking.”

“Cool,” Lambert nodded. “I mean, that’s fine. Renfri and Geralt swing both ways, too, you know.”

“You really don’t know when you should keep your mouth shut, do you, Lambert?” Geralt sighed. “Please. I am trying to get _somewhere_ here…”

“Can you play any instruments besides the guitar, Jaskier?” Lambert went on.

“Yeah, I mean, of course. I can play many instruments, really, really badly,” Jaskier grinned. “But I can definitely play the piano. And keyboards, of course. Also violin. Guitar, piano and violin are the only ones I play good enough to be able to teach them. Oh, and I can play the lute, of course, how could I forget!”

“Oh dear God, he can play the lute,” Lambert sighed. “I mean, of course he can, he’s a _bard_ , after all, but still…”

“Just out of curiosity, what do you do for a living, Jaskier?” Eskel asked.

“I, uhm, teach music?” Jaskier replied, biting his lip. “There’s several people I tutor, and of course I am also a lecturer at the local university. Uhm. I didn’t mean _of course_ , of course, I mean I _happen_ to be a lecturer...”

“Breathe, buttercup,” Renfri said, clasping his shoulder. “Nobody’s judging you. Right, guys?”

“Sure not,” Eskel smiled. “So… you have a degree?”

Jaskier bit his lip.

“Yeah. Yeah. That’s right. A degree.”

“Jaskier?” Renfri said, lifting her eyebrows.

“It might be more of a doctorate,” Jaskier muttered. “In music education.”

“But that’s awesome!” Renfri beamed. “Finally someone who could teach Lambert to keep the rhythm!”

“Ha ha, Renfri, _ha ha_ ,” Lambert snorted. “Or he could teach you more than four chords, eh?”

“Nah, I don’t need more than three, usually,” she shrugged. “Right, Geralt?”

“Maybe you will, now,” Geralt smirked. “If Jaskier decides to become our songwriter, too.”

“Oh, I could?” Jaskier said, turning to Geralt with his eyes sparkling. “I mean, you don’t have a songwriter?”

“Yen wrote most of our lyrics, and we made the music together as a band,” Geralt sighed. “I’m not the best with words.”

“No shit,” Lambert smirked.

“Oh. Oh. _Oh._ Oh, boy, I’m gonna have a _field day_ here. Oh, yes, baby, this is Jaskier’s time to _shine_!”

“Aaand you’ve just released the beast,” Eskel chuckled.

“I’m gonna write you _so many_ great songs!” Jaskier laughed.

“Right. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Geralt said. “Before you do that, we need–”

“Renfri, honey, you’re gonna need _way more_ than three chords, I assure you. But don’t worry, I’m a great tutor! I’m only gonna beat you a _little_.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed, trying hard to stifle a laugh.

“Oh, my dear hearts, I’m everything you’ve been waiting for! I’m gonna–”

“ _Jaskier_.”

Jaskier’s speech came to a sudden hslt, and the bard shut his eyes firmly and bit his lower lip.

“Geralt?” he peeped.

“Before you do all that,” Geralt smiled, “we need you to try and play a few songs with us. All right?”

“Yeah. Of course, of course,” Jaskier nodded vehemently. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, of course. You may yet find that I am just a shitty folk singer, completely unfit for your epic… metal… songs. Right. For the record, you _do_ have lyrics for your songs somewhere, right? Because though I really love Song of the White Wolf, I’m afraid I really don’t know your _other_ songs that much, and...”

As Jaskier was rambling, Geralt’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked the screen. A text from Ciri.

 _So… Are you keeping him?_ it said.

Geralt looked at the bard, who was currently talking about the importance of singers knowing their lyrics even in their sleep, and smiled as he typed the reply.

_He’s an idiot._

_Is that a yes, dad?_

Geralt chuckled.

 _It’s a yes_.

Jaskier accepted a glass of alcohol from Renfri’s hand. He was a quick learner, because he didn’t even think about asking what exactly was in it.

“So. I don’t want to sound too eager, but...”

“You’re in,” Geralt said. “If you want.”

Jaskier stopped with his glass halfway up to his lips. Those were currently too busy grinning to be able to drink at the same time.

“Seriously?” he asked. “You’re not kidding, right? It’s not some kind of a horrible, cruel joke? Valdo Marx isn’t gonna jump up from behind the couch and laugh at me for believing I could be a part of _Kaer Morhen_?”

“You’re really in,” Geralt answered him. “And no, we are not going to slap a wig on you and pretend you’re Yennefer, either.”

“Good. That’s good. I don’t really think I could pull that off. So… What now?”

“Now we keep practicing,” Geralt said.  
“For the Battle of the Bands, you mean?”

“More like for the gig next week,” Renfri muttered.

“A gig next _what_?!” Jaskier exclaimed. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! You’re expecting me to be able to sing a gig with you next _week_?”

“Relax. It’s a short one. Only thirty minutes,” Eskel said in a vain attempt to sound encouraging.

Jaskier raised his hand and put it firmly on his chest.

“Right. Only thirty minutes. Oh, dear. I’m having a heart attack. I’m dying. You are expecting me to _learn…_ I mean, there’s just no _way_...”

“Come on. You’re a clever guy, aren’t you?” Lambert smirked.

“Next week. _Next week_...” Jaskier groaned.

“Don’t panic, buttercup. It’s gonna be fine,” Renfri said, clasping his shoulder. “We can meet tomorrow and keep practicing.”

“No, not tomorrow,” Geralt shook his head. He was the only one to have the decency to look somewhat apologetic. “I’m playing D&D tomorrow, and if I cancel it again, Vesemir’s gonna find me and skin me alive.”

“Oh, that’s just great!” Jaskier said, spreading his arms wide. “The fate of the band is at stake, we desperately need to practice, but the _lead singer…_ Wait. Did you say D&D?”

And that was how Jaskier ended up sitting in a living room of a guy called Vesemir (an old friend of Geralt’s, apparently) the next afternoon, being introduced to a bunch of new players who also decided to join the campaign.

“I’m not really _new_ ,” he explained to Vesemir. “I just… kinda used to play with the guys from my former band, and since we’re not exactly on speaking terms right now, I’m looking for a new group, that’s all.”

“Great. Less explaining for me then,” Vesemir nodded. “Now, about your character...”

“Oh, yes, a very surprising choice,” Geralt muttered. “A human bard named Jaskier, who would have guessed.”

“Oh, look who’s talking, _witcher_ ,” Jaskier growled.

“My god,” Vesemir laughed. “Now, this is going to be _interesting_.”

“ _What_ is going to be interesting?” Geralt asked, rolling a dice in his fingers.

“Nothing, nothing. If you’re ready, gentlemen, we could start. Our story begins in a little village called Posada...”

“Good, you’ve passed the perception check, so… As you are threatening the sylvan, you suddenly realize there’s someone standing behind you. What do you do now?”

“I turn around and defend myself, what do you think?” Geralt growled and rolled the dice.

“One. Oh, great job,” Jaskier sighed.

“Shut up, Jaskier. I’m not the one who’s been unconscious for the past five minutes!”

“Yes, my poor eighteen-year-old baby bard got knocked out, that’s why he needed the _mighty witcher_ to protect him!”

“Well, that didn’t really work,” Vesemir smirked. “Geralt, the last thing you see is a fist heading straight for your face. And then everything goes black.”

“That’s what you deserve for rolling a fucking _one_.”

“I really hate you, Jaskier.”

“I want to break the bard’s lute,” said the guy playing one of the elves. Jaskier didn’t remember his name, but he’d just started to hate the guy.

“No, not the lute! _Not the lute_!” he yelled.

“Why exactly do you want to break his lute?” Vesemir asked the guy.

“Because I hate humans?” the elf replied.

“Fair enough,” Vesemir shrugged. “No, you don’t need to roll for that. In your anger, you break the lute in half, much to the bard’s displeasure.”

“Displeasure? _Displeasure_?!” Jaskier growled. “This isn’t just _displeasure._ I’m gonna _murder_ you.”

“You realize it’s not a real lute, don’t you?” Geralt muttered.

“Of course. I would tear _anyone_ who would try to touch my _real_ lute to pieces. But a lute is a lute. You don’t just destroy lutes, not even fictional ones!”

“He just really loves lutes,” Geralt explained to Vesemir.

“You don’t say,” the man replied. “Geralt, what do _you_ do now?”

“I try to convince the elves to leave the bard alone. Apparently,” Geralt sighed when Jaskier looked at him with big, blue puppy eyes.

“Oh, thank you, thank you. Fucking _finally_!” Jaskier clapped his hands. “Now, just don’t screw the… _Aaand_ it’s a one again.”

“Jaskier, I’m really starting to regret taking you here...”

Some thirty minutes later, the game had ended and the “elves” had left the apartment. Jaskier wasn’t convinced they would be coming back. They seemed like the types who only wanted to try playing, and trying once was more than enough for them. But Jaskier definitely _was_ coming back. If Geralt didn’t mind.

“Right,” he grinned when he realized Geralt wasn’t about to get up and leave any time soon. “Thanks for the magic lute, I guess.”

“Who said it was magical?” Vesemir smirked.

“I’ve told you I wasn’t a newbie. I know how these things work. That lute is _definitely_ magical.”

“Geralt, seriously,” Vesemir laughed. “ _Where_ did you find this guy?”

“On the pavement in front of our rehearsal room,” Geralt said. “His band just kicked him out and he desperately needed a drink.”

Vesemir’s eyes narrowed.

“ _Geralt_?” he muttered.

“All right,” Geralt sighed. “Jaskier, this is Vesemir. He’s kind of… our band’s manager.”

“Not _kind of_ ,” Vesemir said. “Geralt. Talk.”

“Yennefer’s left the band. Yes, again. For good, this time.”

“Oh, great. And you were going to tell me _when_?”

“Right now, as you can see. I mean… hear.”

“Awesome. So _Jaskier_ here is…”

“Our new singer.”

Jaskier raised his eyebrows. Oh, boy, was Geralt really starting to seem _scared_ of this guy?

“Geralt, I’ve already told you,” Vesemir sighed. “You can’t choose new band members by picking up random weird kids from the street!”

“Why not? That’s how we got Renfri after Coën left.”

“You mean Renfri, who hadn’t even held the guitar in her hand before she joined the band?”

“She got good, though, didn’t she?” Geralt grinned.

“So what about you, eh?” Vesemir said and turned to Jaskier. “Can you sing, or do you just look pretty?”

Jaskier smirked and took a deep breath.

“When a humble bard...” he sang softly. “Graced a ride along… With Geralt of Rivia… Along came this… song...”

“Yeah,” Geralt smirked. “He can sing, but also play _and_ write lyrics and music.”

“No, that’s too good to be true,” Vesemir shook his head. “After all these years, you’ve finally found someone who can do that? Well, welcome on board, kid!”

“I’m not really a kid,” Jaskier commented. “And about that lute…”

“Yes, yes,” Vesemir nodded. “It’s definitely magical.”

“ _Yes_! I _knew_ it!”

The next day, at four PM, Jaskier was doing his very best to try and ignore Ciri, who was busily buzzing around him with her phone’s camera pointing in his direction.

“Just act natural,” Geralt said, for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. “Focus on the guitar and pretend to sing.”

“I’m trying,” Jaskier growled. “Why are we doing this, anyway? I mean, I _know_ , you want my photo for the post about me becoming the new singer, but can’t you just use an older pic of me?”

“Shut up and play,” Lambert sighed. “Though I still think we should take a photo of you both, Geralt. Our _two_ singers.”

“That’s not happening,” Geralt’s husky voice rasped and Jaskier lost his concentration once again.

“Why not?” he asked. “We’ve got such a good chemistry together, and I’m just… me. I’m telling you, Geralt, if you only post me, it’s gonna be a _horrible_ shitstorm.”

“I agree with Jaskier,” Ciri said. “You should definitely be in the pic with him.”

“No,” Geralt growled. “Just _play_. We have been here for an hour already.”

“Twenty minutes,” Renfri said and reached for her own guitar. “And only because you’re a stubborn cock. Hey, buttercup. Teach me that song, what was it called? _The Fishmonger’s daughter_?”

A huge smile spread across Jaskier’s face as his fingers started to dance on the strings.

“Oh, fishmonger, oh, fishmonger, come quell your daughter’s hunger,” he singed softly. “To pull on my horn as it rises in the morn. For ‘tis naught but bad luck–”

“ _And_ I’ve got it,” Ciri announced. “What do you think, Renfri?”

“That our buttercup looks absolutely adorable,” the guitarist smiled, looking over her shoulder. “Good job, Ciri. Now we only need to write the post.”

“Great,” Lambert commented. “That’s gonna be a piece of cake, isn’t it?”


	3. When a Humble Bard...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look, isn't it a new chapter? Thank you everyone who read the last one, your every comment really means the world to me! I can now safely say this fic is getting out of hand, so you can look forward to more (way more) chapters than I expected when I started writing this. Yay? :)

I t was a bad idea to check the comments before the rehearsal ended. It was a bad idea to check the comments  _at all_ , as he realized the moment he did it.

“Oh, cock,” he muttered, staring at the little screen. “Well. I know I said it was gonna be a shitstorm… but this is even worse than I expected.”

Renfri raised her head from her guitar and Geralt stopped fidgeting with his microphone.  
“What is it?” the man asked and turned his impossible amber eyes to Jaskier.

“Oh, nothing. The jury is in,” Jaskier smirked. “Apparently I’m just a common twink who’s forced Yennefer out of the band, slept my way in, and I’m not even worthy of licking her boots, let alone taking her place. And that’s one of the _kinder_ comments.”

He blinked. He won’t cry, he just  _won’t_ . He knew it was going to be hard, that Kaer Morhen’s usual audience wouldn’t exactly welcome him with open arms, but… This was really bad. Really fucking bad.

He sighed and shook his head.

“Right. I suppose that’s it, then. It was a nice experiment, but you should probably find a… female singer.”

“Give it to me,” Geralt growled and snatched Jaskier’s phone from his hand. “It can’t be _that…_ Fuck.”

“Basically,” Jaskier sighed.

“Can I see?” Ciri asked.

“No way!” said Jaskier and Geralt in unison.

“Oh, hell,” Renfri muttered, taking a look at her own phone. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how you spell _fairy…_ And who the hell even uses the word _fairy_ anymore?!”

“Our fans, obviously,” Lambert muttered, looking over Renfri’s shoulder. “Jesus. They’re _vicious_. I mean… I don’t even _want_ people like that to be our fans, does it make sense?”

“Geralt?” Eskel said, and all the eyes in the room turned to the white-haired singer who looked like he was about to crush Jaskier’s phone to pieces.

“I really didn’t want to do this,” he sighed. “But I guess there’s no avoiding it, right? Fine. _Fine_. I’m gonna call Yennefer. Tomorrow.”

Jaskier felt himself nodding, but it was as if the body belonged to someone else. He couldn’t believe what was happening – for the second time in a fucking  _week_ . And of course it was. This had been a crazy idea from the very start. But he allowed himself to believe that it  _would_ work out in the end, because he clicked so amazingly with the band…

“Jaskier,” he heard Geralt say to him. “ _Jask_.”

He blinked and tried to focus.

“What?”

Did Geralt seriously just call him  _Jask_ ?

“I’m not gonna call her to come back. You will leave this band _over my dead body_. But Yennefer is a PR expert, and it was her who took care of our social media,” Geralt sighed. “What? Did you think I would beg her to come back just because a bunch of assholes on Facebook want me to? Yeah, if someone’s only reason to come and see our band was an opportunity to stare at my ex-wife’s tits, well… good riddance.”

“My words,” Renfri nodded. “Don’t worry, buttercup. We’ll sort this out.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Jaskier sighed. “Would you… Would you mind if I… I’d really like to go home, if I could. I’m not in the mood for… Just not in the mood.”

“Jaskier,” Ciri said.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. But I’d like to be alone tonight, that’s all.”

“Sure,” Geralt nodded. “I’ll call you tomorrow and tell you the plan. Okay?”

“Right. Thanks,” Jaskier said and managed a tiny smile. “You’re a dear heart.”

He quickly started to pack his things, so no one would notice his trembling hands.

One hour and three glasses of gin and tonic later, he made a decision.

He sat up on his  couch and tried to find a tiny voice of reason, the last remnants of his sobriety, just  _something_ that would stop him from doing what he was about to do – but to no avail.

His laptop was lying on the coffee table and he opened it and went to make more gin and tonic.

This was either an absolutely brilliant idea, or a truly terrible one.

Well, he was going to find out soon enough…

Geralt was having a really shitty morning. He couldn’t sleep at night. He was mad at their so-called fans for being so mean to Jaskier. (Seriously, how could they? Geralt knew Jaskier wasn’t exactly the type that screamed  _metal singer_ , but  he was so sweet – being mean to him was like kicking a puppy, for fuck’s sake!) He was mad because thanks to them, he would now have to call Yennefer – and he’d promised himself that this time, he would stay away from her as much as possible.

He was mad at himself, because maybe he should have listened to the band and Ciri. Perhaps if he was in the photo with Jask…

“Geralt! _Geralt_!” yelled a voice, and then Renfri barged into the kitchen, holding a tablet in her hand. It startled Geralt so much that he dropped his coffee mug in his lap. Luckily, the coffee was already getting cold, but his morning got much shittier nevertheless.

“What is it?” he growled.

“Look what I’ve just found – and guess where? On our very own Facebook page, shared by _us_!”

“Great. But what _is_ it?”

“For fuck’s sake, Geralt… It’s a video, can’t you see? From Youtube.”

“What video?” Geralt frowned.

“Jesus Christ, what have I done to you...” Renfri sighed and tapped on the screen.

The video started with Jaskier sitting on his couch, wearing the same black trousers, black T-shirt and vest he’d been wearing to the rehearsal the day before. His hair was all ruffled, his face was flushed and he was smiling stupidly.

He was so cute Geralt had to bite his lip so he wouldn’t smile himself.

“Hello, hello,” Jaskier said. “My dearest… Witchlings? Witchitas? Witch… Witcherlings! Yeah, that sounds great. Hello, my dearest Witcherlings. As you may have noticed, this is Jaskier, the brand new singer of your beloved Kaer Morhen.”

 _Idiot_ , Geralt thought. _They already hate you, and you go and call them “Witcherlings”?_

“You’re probably thinking: Christ, is he drunk?” Jaskier went on. “And no, I am not. I’m merely slightly tipsy. The important difference is that when you’re tipsy, you’re able to post stupid videos of you yourself, but when you’re drunk, you need other people to do it for you. But since I am indeed on my way to _drunk_ , we should probably hurry this up a little. Cheers to you, my dears.”

Jaskier raised his glass full of some clear, sparkling liquid. Geralt had no idea what it was, but it _definitely_ wasn’t water.

“Now,” Jaskier said, taking a sip from his glass. “I think we can start this with a little AMA session. Here on my… trusty phone, I have a few questions you guys have posted on our Facebook, and I’m going to try and answer them now. Question number one: Where did they even dig out this pretentious twink? Well, I could object to being called a twink, since I’m definitely too old and tall and fat for that, but whatever. The answer is, they found me on the pavement outside their rehearsal room. I mean, I was _standing_ there, I was having a shitty day, Geralt and Renfri saw me, invited me in for a drink, I played a few funny songs for the band and Geralt’s daughter Ciri, and then I went home. The next thing I know, Geralt calls me that they’re looking for a new singer, and they want the singer to be me. So, to sum it up… The pretentious not-twink is basically a stray they found on the street. Funny, eh?”

This time, Geralt didn’t even try to stop his smile.

“Question number two!” Jaskier announced. “Does this twink – holy shit, I really need to change my style, don’t I? – really think he can replace the sexiness that is Yennefer? Answer – no, I don’t. I could never fit in her dress. But I can buy my own dress if you insist. I’ll do it, if it makes you more comfortable. If you want to see some cleavage on stage, I mean, I can totally give you that!”

He pulled the neckline of his T-shirt a little lower to show more of his plentiful chest hair and Geralt could hear Renfri snort.

“Yeah, maybe not,” Jaskier muttered. “By the way, guys, I swear this is not some tiny, helpless animal I’ve taped to my chest, it’s, unfortunately, all me. Right, question number three. So you wanna tell me they kicked out our feminist queen Yennefer, only to fill her place with some half-brained male… Come _on_ , guys, there’s so many more insults than _twink_! Be original! I mean, you could say twat, cock, moron, idiot, milksop… Be imaginative! But back to the question. As far as I know, Yennefer wasn’t kicked out, she wasn’t forced to leave, it was her decision, and hers alone. She left the band, she wasn’t interested in coming back, they needed a new singer.”

Jaskier shrugged and took a mouthful of his drink.

“I mean… Come on, I was as shocked as you are when Geralt called me they wanted… me. Because… Yeah. I’m not a gal, that much is obvious. In fact, I was convinced that it was just a stupid joke, but no. And truth is, I guess we just… We just clicked. With the band, I mean. They’re dear hearts, all of them. Eskel, he’s a great guy, a great musician. Lambert, he’s… Yeah, Lambert’s a dick, but a dick you can’t help but like, you know? Renfri, oh, my dear darling Renfri. She’s a total sweetheart, always supportive, and if you can trust what Geralt says, she’s one of the main reasons why I ended up being in the band. And Geralt? Oh, our grumpy wolf who mainly communicates in grunts. You can never be sure what he really thinks, but he took me with him to his D&D group, he didn’t kill me during the evening, _and_ he even saved my poor little bard’s life! That means _something_ , guys!”

Geralt grunted and rolled his eyes. Renfri chuckled.

“Right, where was I?” Jaskier frowned. “Oh, question number… was it four or five? Never mind. Guys, do you think Geralt’s gonna sleep with this little cocksucker – see, you can be more original with your insults! – as he did with Yennefer? Oh, yeah, absolutely. Just because I’m bisexual – yes, that’s right, I swing my lute both ways – and so is Geralt, we’re definitely gonna _bang_.”

“Oh dear God,” Renfri whispered as Geralt groaned and closed his eyes. “He’s just outed you.”

“Question number… The last question,” Jaskier continued. “Whose cock did he have to suck to even get in? Well, everyone in the band, of course. Renfri included. We’re all here for equal opportunities, right? But I might have done Geralt twice, I admit. Just to make absolutely sure I’d get in, you know?”

He winked at the camera and finished his drink.

“But let’s get real now, guys,” he sighed. “I get it that some of you… well, most of you aren’t sure about this whole… change. To be honest, I’m not completely convinced myself. We’ve only just started rehearsing, and we’ve got a gig _next week_ and I’ve been freaking out ever since they told me about it! But I know I already love them all, I love playing with them, and I really want to try to make it work. So I’m only asking you to give me a chance to convince you that I’m good. That I really fit in with the band, even though I love bright colors and weird music and quirky accessories and I honestly don’t think Manowar are any good...”

“Do you think he knows you hate Manowar with a _burning passion_?” Renfri asked.

“Shut up,” Geralt growled.

“And I gotta tell you,” Jaskier went on. “This band is just _awesome_ for my creativity. I swear that I haven’t been this inspired for months, maybe even years. I’m already working on a new song, and I’ve got those… snippets and bits of others lying all around, see?” He lifted a piece of paper with a few lines and a drawing of a wolf on it. “And you know what? I could play you that song I’m working on, what do you think? It’s inspired by that evening Geralt took me with him to his D&D group. Wait a second.”

He jumped up, knelt on the couch and bent over the backrest. His T-shirt rode up and Geralt could clearly see the hem of bright purple underwear poke out from underneath Jaskier’s pants. He heard Renfri snort once again.

Then Jaskier straightened and promptly sat back. Geralt expected him to hold a guitar, but boy, he was wrong.

“Yeah, it’s a lute,” Jaskier grinned. “And yeah, I can totally play it. And I’m gonna play you a song about the time my darling, innocent bard met the mighty White Wolf. I start alone, like this...”

He took a deep breath and began to sing.

“ _When a humble bard_

_Graced a ride along_

_With Geralt of Rivia_

_Along came this song_

_When the White Wolf fought_

_A silver tongued devil_

_His army of elves_

_At his hooves did they revel_

_They came after me_

_With masterful deceit_

_Broke down my lute_

_And they kicked in my teeth_

_While the devil's horns_

_Minced our tender meat_

_And so cried the Witcher...”_

Jaskier opened the eyes he’d closed… When exactly? Geralt had no idea.

“And this is when Geralt joins in, with that mighty growl of his, going...” Jaskier scowled and changed his voice to a deep growl: “ _He can't be bleat!_ ”

“That was good,” Renfri muttered. “If you ever piss us off–”

“Shut up.”

“And then,” Jaskier continued. “We sing the chorus together, and it goes like this…

_Toss a coin to your Witcher_

_Oh, valley of plenty_

_Oh, valley of plenty, oh_

_Toss a coin to your Witcher_

_Oh, valley of plenty..._ ”

Jaskier stopped playing then, and laughed.

“And that’s all I’ve got so far, I’m afraid. Consider this an exclusive preview, since you’re the very first people to hear this song. So far, I’ve only played it for the spider that lives above my fridge, and he’s even worse at giving his opinions than Geralt is. I really hope _you_ liked this song and that I haven’t made you start hating me more than you already did. And since I’m out of my gin and tonic, let’s wrap this up, so I can go and make more. Farewell, my dearest Witcherlings. I love you all.”

Geralt kept staring at the screen for quite a few seconds after the video had ended. He would have kept staring for much longer, but Renfri decided to whistle right next to his ear.

“Wow,” she said. “That was… something.”

“Yes. Something,” Geralt muttered. “Gods above.”

“Any idea how it got posted to our page?” Renfri asked.

“I thought it was your doing,” Geralt frowned. “But no, it doesn’t make sense. You were as surprised as I was.”

“Definitely wasn’t Eskel,” Renfri continued. “He’s got trouble switching his smartphone on.”

“Lambert could have done it.”

“He would have called you first, dying of laughter.”

“Well, that only leaves… Fuck,” Geralt muttered, rising to his feet. “Cirilla! Cirilla, get up and get your ass over here, _now_!”

Jaskier was having quite a lovely dream. He was running through a meadow full of wildflowers, laughing, singing, the birds were chirping and bees were buzzing around him…

He scowled and scrunched up his nose.

No, it wasn’t the buzzing of the bees, it was something… something else…

He raised his head from the pillow and moaned. An angry dwarf was busily banging the inside of his skull with a tiny hammer. The room was spinning around him. And the buzzing just wouldn’t stop…

“Aw, cock,” he muttered, blindly reaching for his phone. That, that was the source of the irritating sound. He grabbed it and cracked one eye open.

_Geralt. Oh, no. The video. Oh, fucking hell, no..._

The phone stopped vibrating, but started again in a few seconds.

Jaskier took a deep breath and answered it.

“Hello,” he said, desperately trying to sound cheerful and not like he was about to throw up any second. “How is my favorite white wolf doing today?”

“Your favorite white wolf sincerely hopes you’ve got the worst hangover of your life, and if you happened to die from it, I wouldn’t object.”

“Ah,” Jaskier said.

“If you mean _Ah, so you’ve seen it then_ , the answer is yes, I have.”

“Look, Geralt, I can _explain_...”

“Explain why you didn’t wait for me to contact Yennefer to sort this mess for us? Explain why did you send the link to the video to _my daughter_ to share it for you?”

“Oh, I hope you weren’t mean to Ciri. She only did it because she loves me so much. And she thought it was _funny_.”

“I wasn’t mean to her, I’m saving that for you. By the way, do you realize you _outed me_?”

“I _what_?!” Jaskier yelled and sat up. Which was a mistake, as his stomach immediately betrayed him. He dropped his phone and sprinted to the bathroom.

“Jaskier?” Geralt said to the phone, but from the other side, he heard nothing but silence. “Jask!”

“What happened?” Renfri frowned.

“I think he may have died for real,” Geralt muttered. “Jask?”

“He’s probably just hugging the toilet very tight,” Renfri chuckled.

“He sounded like shit. I should go and check if he’s alright.”

“I think he’ll live, Geralt. He may wish he didn’t, but he will.”

“It won’t do the band any good if one of your singers dies of alcohol poisoning,” Ciri said.

“Nah. He would have already been dead,” Renfri replied.

“I’ll go and check on him,” Geralt sighed. “Ciri’s right. He’s an idiot, something could happen to him.”

“I didn’t say he was an _idiot_...”

“And how do you even know where he _lives_?” Renfri asked.

“I dropped him off after D&D. Stop it with the eyebrows, Renfri! I know the _building_ he lives in. I have _no idea_ what his real name is, so–”

“Pankratz,” Ciri peeped. “Julian Pankratz.”

“I’m not gonna ask how you know _that_ ,” Geralt sighed. “But thanks.”

“I could go with you,” Ciri offered.

“No way in hell, Cirilla. Renfri, will you take care of her while I’m away?”

“Yeah, sure,” Renfri shrugged.

“Excuse me, I don’t need anyone to–”

“And remember, _no phone_ and _no computer_ , Cirilla. I’ll be back as soon as I make sure the idiot’s gonna survive.”

“Don’t forget to change your pants!” Renfri called. “You wouldn’t want him to see you with your lap full of coffee stains!”

Geralt grunted and strode out of the living room in a way that made Renfri almost feel sorry for Jaskier.

Yeah… almost.

“Well, that was that,” Renfri smirked. “What do the comments say, by the way?”


	4. There’s a Monster In My Pants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears. As always, I want to thank you all so much for all your lovely comments, and I'm here to reward you all with a brand new chapter! I wanted to finish it and post it tomorrow, but then I started writing and I just couldn't stop until I was done. By the way, I have literally no idea how this chapter even happened, since it was nowhere in my original plans, then it was supposed to be just a tiny part of a new chapter, and suddenly there's more than two thousand words of it. That's what happens when you let your characters take over, kids! (And yes, I'm looking at you, Jaskier.)  
> So enjoy the new chapter, and I'll be on my way to bed, because I (unfortunately) gotta get up and go to work tomorrow. And yes, I'd much rather just stay at home and write...

Geralt must have hung down the phone before Jaskier finished throwing up, because when the poor hungover bard crawled back to the bedroom, Geralt wasn’t on the line anymore.

Jaskier knew he probably _should_ call him back, but he was too exhausted to deal with whatever Geralt wanted to say to him now. Probably that he was out of the band, for good, with no chance of ever returning.

Jaskier took his phone with him, just in case, and very slowly made his way to the living room, where he stretched on the sofa and covered himself with a blanket. He refused to stay in bed, but he also refused to function.

He was feeling like hell. Partially it was the hangover. His stomach still felt queasy, his head was spinning and the dwarf in his skull abandoned his hammer and grabbed a power drill instead. It was a purgatory, and Jaskier was pretty sure he absolutely deserved it.

Oh, dear God. Trust him to blow his chance to have something good in his life. No, not good. Something _great_.

“Stupid, stupid Jaskier,” he muttered, closed his eyes firmly and decided to spend the day wallowing in self-pity.

He must have fallen asleep soon after making this decision, because all of a sudden, somebody was banging on his door, and quite loudly at that.

“Oh, fuck off,” he muttered and tried to hide under his blanket, but the horrible sound just wouldn’t stop. Jaskier struggled into a sitting position and groaned. “Who the fuck is that?!”

The banging stopped, but what came after was even more horrible.

“Who the fuck do you think, Jaskier?” said a deep, husky voice he recognized after the first syllable.

Jaskier swallowed.

“This is not Jaskier!” he called in a voice much higher than his own. “This is his flatmate… Alfred! Darling. Jaskier went to visit his poor sick grandmother who lives in Siberia!”

“Nice try,” Geralt chuckled. “But you’ve told me you lived alone. Open the fucking door, Jask.”

“No way,” Jaskier replied. “I’m too young and pretty to die!”

“I’m not here to kill you. But I will the next time I see you if you don’t open the door _right fucking now_.”

“Ugh, _fine_ ,” Jaskier groaned and stood up, very slowly and carefully, huddled in his blanket. He made his way to the door and opened it. The first thing he saw were two golden eyes and an amused smirk. “What?”

Geralt raised his right hand, which was holding two paper bags.

“Belgian fries, tartar sauce, chocolate cake,” he announced. “Also, there’s a Monster in my pants. And I mean the energy drink, not what you’re probably thinking right now. All tried and tested hangover remedies.”

“Jesus Christ, I love you,” Jaskier moaned and stepped away from the door.

It was entirely possible that Geralt was lying about not being here to kill him, but he brought fries, meaning he’s bought his way into the flat.

“Not Jesus Christ, last time I checked,” Geralt chuckled. “And your affection is way too easily won, Bard.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m a whore. Please come in, excuse the mess, gimme the fries, the cake and the Monster from your pants.”

“We are still talking about the drink, right?” Geralt asked, shutting the door behind him.

Jaskier let his body fall onto the couch.

“My dearest wolf, I wouldn’t be able to get it up even if I wanted.”

Geralt smiled and handed him the bags and a can of energy drink he took out of his back pocket.

“Good. That’s what you deserve for being so damn stupid.”

“Yeah, I know. I definitely should have stopped drinking after the _fucking video_ ,” Jaskier muttered, digging in the bag that was a little bigger than the other. “But I felt like _shit_ , and I wanted to forget, and… Oh, you mean I deserve it for the _video_. Right.”

Geralt sat down in an armchair and watched Jaskier hungrily stuff a few fries into his mouth.

“Don’t you?” he asked as Jaskier popped open the energy drink.

“Absolutely. Is that why you’re here, Geralt? To act as my voice of conscience? You could have saved yourself the trouble, my conscience’s been nagging at me ever since I woke up.”

“I came here to make sure you were okay, you moron,” Geralt grunted. “I would gladly let you die, but as Ciri pointed out, if you did, we would have to find a new singer, and I don’t think I’m ready for auditions.”

“Oh, how loved and appreciated I feel right now.”

“Hmm...”

Jaskier sighed and closed his eyes.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered. “Look, I’m sorry, okay. I’m sorry for the video, it was a stupid idea and Ciri definitely should have stopped me. And I’m sorry… I’m fucking sorry for outing you.”

“You didn’t know I wasn’t out.”

“Precisely. I didn’t know, I should have kept my big, stupid mouth shut. Fuck. I know how it feels, I’ve been outed by a friend before, and now I do it to somebody else?”

“Jaskier...”

“I mean, the friend outed me to my _parents_ and he did it _on purpose_ , but it doesn’t matter if it’s on purpose, does it?”

“Jaskier.”

“The result is the same, somebody who didn’t want to be out is out now, and they have to deal with the consequences–”

“ _Jask_.”

Jaskier blinked.

“What?”

“It’s _fine_. As Renfri would gladly tell you, I’ve been talking about doing this for _months_ , I just never gathered the courage to say _Look, fans, I know you all think I am this big bad manly wolf, every woman’s wet dream, but I’m kind of also into guys, please don’t hate me._ It’s almost a relief that someone did it for me.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Jaskier muttered.

“Do what?”

“Try to… convince me that my mistake was actually a good thing.” He took a sip from the drink. “How the hell did you even know the normal one was my favorite, and not one of those disgusting sugar-free fancy ones?”

“I didn’t,” Geralt shrugged. “I just took my favorite.”

“Oh. Thanks. I mean it. You’re a dear heart, Geralt.”

“I know.”

Jaskier uttered a tiny laugh.

“And so humble… What do your fans think about your bisexuality, by the way?”

“No idea. Haven’t checked the comments yet.”

“You _haven’t_?”

“Have _you_ checked them yet? After all, you outed yourself, too.”

“Yes. As bisexual, but everyone already thought I was gay, so it’s no big deal.”

“Hmm...”

“Oh, stop it with the grunts. By the way, how was I supposed to check anything? I was barely conscious. Well, not even barely, most of the time. I’m only coming back to life thanks to this heavenly goodness you’ve brought me. Those fries were _amazing_. And now for the cake… Oh, dear _lord_ , I’m starting to think I _did_ die, and I ended up in heaven!”

“Well, it’s obvious you really feel better,” Geralt smirked.

“Physically, yes. Though it would help me tremendously if you checked the comments, so I can stop feeling like shit for… you know.”

“Why don’t you check them yourself?”

“Because, my dear Geralt… Oh, yes, this is _fabulous_ ,” he moaned as he put a plastic fork full of cake into his mouth. “My dear, dear wolf, I’d hate to have to throw up the feast you brought me.”

“Jask...”

“ _Please_?”

“Ugh, fine,” Geralt muttered, taking his phone out of his pocket. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Someone’ mentioned it before. Several people. Many, many, _many_ people.”

“I’m only doing this for you. Not because I want to know.”

“Of course.”

“I don’t.”

“Of course.”

“I really… Oh, fuck.”

“Good fuck or bad fuck?”

Geralt took a deep breath, scrolling through the comments on his phone’s screen.

“Well, the good news is, not so many people noticed the bit about my sexuality. Most of these comments are about you.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier sighed. “Okay. Gimme. I’m ready for them to tear me apart.”

“I saw that yesterday,” Geralt smirked. “As you wish. So… Oh, yes, that’s a good one. _Oh, boy. This bard looks like a pure cinnamon roll, acts like a pure cinnamon roll, but in reality he’s just a feral bitch who’s out for blood_. I mean, I’m not sure what it even means, but it _sounds_ good, right?”

“It _is_ good. Please, please, don’t let it be the only one.”

“ _Dear God, this guy’s chaotic energy is off the charts. I wasn’t sure about the whole thing, but I can’t help it, I love him already._ ”

“Oh, yes, baby, _yes_!” Jaskier groaned.

“I’m definitely getting old, I didn’t understand a word of it,” Geralt muttered. “Oh, this one I understand. _Am I the only one who’s been humming Toss a Coin To Your Witcher for the past ten minutes?_ Well, since the comment has more than a hundred likes, he probably _isn’t_ the only one.”

“It’s a catchy song,” Jaskier said.

“Yeah, though that bit about a _humble bard_ definitely wasn’t inspired by you,” Geralt chuckled. “Oh, God… _I am a heterosexual guy, but seeing those blue eyes, I understand why Geralt would let him suck his cock._ And the reaction to that is… _Man, I’m a lesbian, and I would gladly let him suck my cock_. And then… Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Jaskier had closed his eyes, but now he opened them and focused on Geralt.

“What?”

“ _And Geralt’s not even heterosexual. He probably stood no chance_.”

“And here we go,” Jaskier said and pushed the cake aside. “But this is good. It’s _great_ , Geralt. they’re taking it as a fact, that’s the best–”

“ _Guys. Guys, are we really ignoring the fact this adorable bard said that Geralt, our mighty White Wolf, was_ bi _? I mean, we knew it already…_ How the fuck did they know?!”

“Hate to break it to you, dear heart, but I knew it, too, even before Lambert told me,” Jaskier shrugged. “You just have this… bisexual energy.”

“Bisexual energy,” Geralt repeated.

“Kinda, yeah.”

“ _The important question – when he’s with a guy, is Geralt a top, or a bottom?_ ”

“Oh, I know the answer to that, too!”

“I doubt that,” Geralt muttered. “ _Don’t know about Geralt, but this Jaskier guy is definitely a power bottom._ ”

“Wrong. Absolutely, completely _wrong_ ,” Jaskier commented.

Geralt shook his head.

“I can’t believe… Just yesterday, they were calling you a twink and a fairy and...”

“Cocksucker,” Jaskier prompted.

“And now they… speculate about my sexual preferences? And they _believe_ you sucked my cock to get in the band?!”

“Oh, no, they don’t. Fret not, dear heart, they’re just… playing along. It’s a joke.”

“ _Am I the only one here who just loves how absolutely smitten this guy is with the rest of the band, Lambert included? So fucking adorable!_ ”

“Oh, I’m gonna start blushing.”

“ _So, are we giving this puppy a chance? All those in favor, say Aye!_ ”

“How many Ayes?” Jaskier asked, biting his lower lip.

“Way, _way_ too many,” Geralt smiled. “It seems you got lucky, you _feral bitch_. Congrats. You’re a new fan favorite.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Jaskier grinned. “I’m gonna make you famous yet, Witcher!”

“I doubt that. You haven’t made Dandelions famous, did you?”

“It’s hard to make a band famous when no matter what you suggest, they tell you _Nah, Julian, that’s stupid, I’m not doing that_.”

“Don’t worry. We’d never call you Julian, Jask.”

“Very reassuring,” Jaskier chuckled. “Why do you call me _Jask_ , anyway?”

“Shorter than _Jaskier_. But if you want me to stop…”

“No, that’s not… I don’t mind. I like it. Just don’t call me Julian. I hate being called Julian. Only my parents call me Julian, and only when I do something they don’t approve of. Which is like… all the time. I haven’t seen them in _years_ , but I’m sure that when I see them again, they’re gonna be like… _Oh. Julian. You look… healthy_. Which basically means I got fat, by the way.”

“Fat? Where?” Geralt blinked.

“Oh, darling. We’re talking about my mother, so… everywhere.”

“Bullshit,” Geralt grunted. “You’re not fat.”

“I do tend to get a little chubby if I let myself go too much.”

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Geralt repeated.

Jaskier smiled and got back to his cake.

“I didn’t say I _minded_ ,” he said. “But thanks, anyway.”

“You’re… welcome?”

“Would you like a bite?” Jaskier asked. “I’m not giving you my plastic fork, but there’s a normal one in the kitchen. Maybe even a _clean_ one, if you’re lucky.”

“Well, I’m not gonna say no,” Geralt laughed and got to his feet.

“And in the meantime, you could tell me what you think about _Toss a Coin To Your Witcher_.”

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered. “I knew this was coming…”

They were just in the middle of discussing their favorite metal bands (well, Geralt’s favorite, and Jaskier’s _I really liked them ten years ago_ ) when Geralt’s phone rang. He answered it with a little apologetic smile.

“Yes, what is it, Ciri? … No, I’m pretty sure I haven’t been gone for two hours already. … Right. I have. … No, I’m not trying to find a place to bury his body. … No, we’re not in a hospital. … No, Jaskier is fine, we’re just… talking. And I kind of lost track of the time. … Yes, I know I have a client in an hour. … Yes. … Yes, Ciri. … Yeah. See you at home. Love you too.”

He ended the call and sighed.

“Gotta go?” Jaskier asked. He was looking way better than he had upon Geralt’s arrival. His face wasn’t deathly pale, for a start, and his eyes were much brighter and clearer. He still looked tired, though.

“Yes. Because I’m an idiot who takes clients on Saturdays,” Geralt muttered and got to his feet. “Will you be all right here?”

“Absolutely, thanks to you,” Jaskier smiled. “You saved my life, Wolf.”

“You’re welcome, Bard,” Geralt nodded. “Will you make it to the rehearsal tonight, or should I call it off?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there.”

“Good. See you there, then. Take care, Jask.”

“See you, Geralt.”

Jaskier waited until he heard the door click behind Geralt before he let out a long, deep breath. He fought the wide smile that threatened to make its way on his face.

Fuck, he was enjoying Geralt’s company way too much. That wasn’t good. That wasn’t good _at all_...


	5. No Firstborns Needed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears! I'm back with a brand new chapter. I wanted to post it sooner, but you know how it is - real life tends to be a bitch sometimes. I hope it was worth the wait, though. Enjoy it, and as always - thank you so much for all your lovely comments! :)

Even though the food Geralt had brought him certainly helped, it still took Jaskier a significant amount of time to recover from the hangover. He had to admit it to himself – he wasn’t getting any younger. There used to be times when he would drink all night and be completely alright in the morning…

Nah, that was a lie. His hangovers always used to be hell, but this was worse than ever.

He was mostly alright, though, when his phone rang in the afternoon.

He answered it without even looking at the screen.

“I’m listening,” he said.

“Uhm. Erm. Hi,” a girl’s voice replied. “This is… This is Ciri.”

“Ciri!” Jaskier beamed. “How are you? I was gonna call you, I swear, I wanted to thank you for sharing the video, and also for not telling on me to your dad… Oh, no, I mean, I probably shouldn’t be thanking you for lying to your father...”

“Didn’t lie to him. Just didn’t tell him,” Ciri said.

“That’s not making it any better,” Jaskier murmured. “Anyway! You were calling me for a reason, I guess?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just wanted to ask… Well, since you’re definitely staying, because the fans _really_ love you, I… I mean… Would you like to go shopping with me?”

“Shopping?” Jaskier blinked. “Oh, you mean for some clothes to fit my new _metal singer_ image?”

“Yes. I know all the good places. Mom takes me with her all the time. I know where they have the best T-shirts and pants and–”

“Yeah, sure, I’d love to go! Wait… Does your father know about it?”

“Does he have to?”

“Well, I’d like to stay alive, so yes, he kind of does.”

“Right. So I’ll… ask him and then call you back?”

“Perfect,” Jaskier smiled. “And what about Renfri? Is she coming too?”

“She said she’d rather cut off her right hand with a pocket knife.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“That’s definitely a no. Right, I’m gonna go and ask dad. Might take a few minutes, though. He’s working, and when he’s working, it takes him a while to start focusing on anything else.”

“That’ fine. Yeah. Right. See you soon. Well, hear you soon.”

“Bye, Jaskier.”

Geralt didn’t mind Ciri going with Jaskier. He even called Jaskier himself to tell him that. (And also to tell him that Ciri is allowed to buy something, too, within reason, and that he would give her his credit card, in case she wanted something she couldn’t afford to buy with her pocket money… Jaskier couldn’t help but think it was incredibly cute.)

So Jaskier went shopping with Ciri.

Two hours later, he had five large bags of clothes and his credit card was weeping silently in his wallet. Oh, dear, he would have to take some new students. At least two. Maybe even three. He didn’t want to, but he would _have to_.

Who’d have thought black clothes were so damn expensive?! (Except he absolutely didn’t buy only _black_ clothes, quite the opposite, in fact.)

Right, right. So it might not have been absolutely necessary to buy those black leather pants and that leather jacket… But Jaskier had wanted a real leather jacket for a while, okay?

“So, am I now officially ready to take my place in the band?” he asked Ciri. He’d dropped the bags off at his flat and he and the girl were currently walking to Kaer Morhen’s rehearsal. Ciri was carrying a little bag with a black-and-purple striped dress that Jaskier wasn’t sure Geralt would approve of, but Jaskier _definitely_ approved. It looked so good on the girl. It was stylish, but not revealing, a perfect dress for a kid her age…

“You’re more than ready,” Ciri said. “You look great.”

Oh, yes, so Jaskier had definitely found the time to change while he was at home. He was now wearing tight black pants, a dark purple T-shirt and a black brocade vest that, he had to admit, did wonders for his figure. His waist looked slimmer, his shoulders broader… Yeah, he looked great as hell.

“All thanks to you, mylady,” he grinned.

“Hush. You chose most of the clothes yourself. You just needed someone who would make you actually buy them. Like the coat.”

Oh, yes, the coat. The coat that was currently spread on his bed. The coat that had already managed to become one of Jaskier’s most prized possessions.

The beautiful, steel blue, double breasted, clearly Victorian era-inspired thing cost more than half of Jaskier’s monthly income, and it was love at first sight. He tried to be be strong, tried to resist, tried to remind himself that he was saving money so he could buy his own flat instead of renting it… But then Ciri saw him drooling at the coat and said: “Oh my God, you have to try it on!”

And so he did. And he was lost.

“It’s not exactly… what a metal singer should wear, is it? I mean, the color is so… light? Too light,” he had tried to protest, stroking the fabric lovingly.

“Don’t be silly. Female singers wear light colors all the time. Even mum did!”

“Mum?”

“Yennefer? Hello?”

“Yeah. Of course. Of course. Way to win the fans’ hearts, by pretending to be her.”

“Nobody’s gonna think you’re her, stupid. Buy it. I bet dad’s gonna love it. It’s one of his favorite colors.”

“I’ve never seen him wear anything but black.”

“I didn’t say his favorite to wear. He just… likes it.”

And it shouldn’t have been the last impulse Jaskier needed to buy the fucking thing, but it kind of was.

“I still think you should have bought the golden jacket, too.”

“Sorry, sweetie, but even the coat was a bit too much. The jacket? I could never afford that.”

That beautiful, gorgeous, amazing golden jacket with V-shaped stripes on the front. Oh, yes, he would kill for that beauty, but he wasn’t ready to eat dry rice for the next two months.

“Too bad. You looked beautiful in it.”

“I know, Ciri, I know,” Jaskier sighed.

They were nearly at the door. Nearly at the rehearsal room. But then Jaskier heard fast footsteps behind them and he (stupid, stupid, _stupid!_ ) decided to turn his head.

“Oh, hello,” said a voice Jaskier never wanted to hear again. “If it isn’t the useless wannabe singer! And who’s that? She’s a little too young to be your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

“Who the hell is he?” Ciri muttered.

“Valdo Marx,” Jaskier growled. “What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to say hello!” Valdo grinned a crooked grin. “I saw your video. Man, I’ve never seen something so ridiculous. Have you been kicked out, yet? You’d deserve to be kicked out for that shit!”

“Since there was no bitch around who would be horny for my place in the band… Nope, still in, sorry.”

“And what about that terrible song?” Valdo continued, as if Jaskier didn’t say anything. “Toss a coin to your whatever. I’m not surprised Dandelions had to get rid of you! Ugh, _appalling_.”

“Excuse me?!” Ciri exclaimed and took a step in Valdo’s direction.

“Ciri. No. He’s not worth it,” Jaskier said, stopping her. “Valdo. May I introduce you to Cirilla, Geralt’s daughter and a _former_ fan of Dandelions, now a devoted fan of Kaer Morhen?”

“And a fan of Jaskier,” Ciri added.

“Geralt? As in the singer of Kaer Morhen?” Valdo snorted. “Oh, dear. You really _did_ suck his cock, didn’t you? Since he’s borrowed you his daughter. Has he fucked you yet? You’ve always said he was a moron, I’m sure you’re really desperate for him to fuck you.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide, and this time _he_ took a step towards the man.

“What did you say you bitch?!” he growled.

A hand grabbed his shoulder from behind.

Jaskier turned, kind of expecting to see Geralt there, but no. It was Lambert, a smirk on his lips and murder in his eyes.

“Relax, sweetie,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“And _you_ are?” Valdo asked.

“Lambert. Funny you don’t remember me, because you spent weeks trying to get in my pants when you wanted to sleep your way into Kaer Morhen. I ruined it for you by being so annoyingly and boringly heterosexual. Don’t worry, though, even if I was gay, you’d stand no chance.”

“Burn, baby, burn,” Jaskier smirked.

“Now, Valdo,” Lambert continued, his smirk growing a little wider. “My friend Jaskier here might be ready to cut your throat, but I would never let him.”

“Thank… you?” Valdo blinked.

“And if Geralt heard you were mean to his beloved daughter, well… He’s a calm man, I mean, he _tries_ to be. But I don’t think he would remain calm if he heard. You know what they say, _demon_ _s_ _run when a good man goes to war_.”

“Hey. I understood that reference!” Jaskier blinked.

“Shush. I’m in the middle of threatening here,” Lambert said. “Valdo. Valdo, Valdo, Valdo. Trust me. You wouldn’t like what would happen if Geralt heard about this.”

Valdo visibly paled.

“He… he doesn’t need to know, does he?”

“No, no, of course not,” Lambert nodded. “But then again… There’s still me.”

“You?”

“Me,” Lambert grinned. “My dear Valdo. There’s one thing you need to understand about me. I am not a calm man, I am not a good man, but I am also not someone who would just simply cut your throat. No. If you show your ugly face near our rehearsal room again, I am going to rip off your cock, fuck you with it, and then use it to gag you while I cut you open and remove your organs in alphabetical order. Are we clear?”

Valdo’s face was completely void of blood now. All the guy was able to do was a single short nod.

“Good. I’m glad for that,” Lambert said. “Why are you still here, then?”

With all the dignity he had left (which was, well… none), Valdo Marx turned and power-walked away without another word.

“Wow. That was awesome!” Ciri beamed.

“I had it,” Jaskier growled, looking at Lambert.

“I know. You were absolutely ready to cut his throat. Or… throttle him,” Lambert shrugged. “But Geralt doesn’t like that. He always tells me, use your words first, there’s still time for stabbing later. So I do it. I threaten, and then, if it doesn’t help, I stab.”

“And do you… stab a lot?” Jaskier asked, fearing the answer.

“Nah,” Lambert grinned. “But fist fights and bar brawls, well… Those do tend to happen.”

“That’s a relief.”

“I bet. Everything alright, Ciri?”

“Absolutely,” the girl nodded.

“Now, Jaskier. Saw your video. Did you seriously call me a _dick_?”

“Well,” Jaskier smirked. “You are kind of a dick.”

“Guilty as charged,” Lambert grinned. “Let’s go in. Eskel hates it when we’re late.”

They weren’t late, but _someone else_ was. Twenty minutes late, to be more precise. And that someone was Geralt.

“I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_ ,” he said in reply to Eskel’s disapproving glance, closing the door behind him. “I was working, forgot time existed.”

“So… as usual?” Renfri smirked.

“Hush, Renfri,” Geralt glared. “It only happens once a month.”

“More like once a week,” Renfri replied.

“Thrice,” Ciri said.

“Did I ask for your opinions?” Geralt growled.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Jaskier peeped, raising his hand. “I don’t wanna sound like an idiot, really, but… What is it that you do? I mean… your job?”

“Oh, dad’s a blacksmith, and a jeweler!” Ciri announced. “He makes those cool iron monsters and wrought iron fences and _amazing_ rings and necklaces and earrings. Look, he made me this!”

She showed Jaskier her necklace – a beautiful swallow made of silver.

“It’s lovely,” Jaskier smiled. “Wow. Really… Wow. Geralt, what do you want for making a cool necklace for me, too? I’m kind of broke now, I have to admit, but I could offer you my firstborn, if you wanted.”

“I’m kind of glad you asked,” Geralt said. “Because that’s precisely the work I got so lost in.”

“Excuse me?”

Geralt reached into his jacket pocket and took out a pendant on a silver chain.

“I made this pendant for every member of the band. A common symbol, you might call it. A white wolf. Well, a silver wolf, really.”

“Like in the logo of Kaer Morhen? Seriously?” Jaskier blinked.

“Seriously,” Geralt smiled. “And this one is yours.”

“Mine?!”

“You are the member of the band, aren’t you?” Geralt said, raising his eyebrow. “Consider this a welcome gift. No firstborns needed.”

Jaskier raised his hand to gently touch the pendant.

“You’re kidding, right? You gotta be kidding me. How many hours did you spend making that?!”

“Not as many as you probably think,” Geralt chuckled. “I mean it. Take it. It’s yours.”

“I… Thanks, Geralt,” Jaskier beamed and took the necklace from Geralt’s hand. “It’s beautiful. But now I’m realizing… _Cirilla_!”

“Wow. You sounded just like dad,” the girl said. “And yeah. I knew. That’s why I wouldn’t let you buy any kind of necklace. Sorry?”

“You should be ashamed for lying to me like that,” Jaskier smirked, fastening the necklace around his neck. “How do I look?”

“Gorgeous as always,” Renfri smiled. “Welcome to the band, Jaskier. Officially.”

Eskel cleared his throat.

“Yeah, welcome. There are a few rules you need to know about before you start. Rule number one – if we say the rehearsal is starting at… let’s say _seven_...”

“And here we go,” Lambert smirked. “Relax, Eskel, we’ll begin in a minute. Jaskier! Have you, by chance, managed to finish that stupidly catchy song that’s been stuck in my head for… five hours now?”

“Toss A Coin?” Jaskier beamed. “Well, I have, actually! Turns out horrible hangovers are surprisingly inspirational. Would you like to hear?”

“Oh, yes!” Ciri said.

“Sure thing,” Renfri nodded. “Hey! We could even squeeze it into the setlist for the next gig! Try it out. See how people like it!”

“You think Geralt will be able to learn a song in a _week_?” Lambert smirked. “Ouch! That really hurt, Geralt!”

“I hope it did,” Geralt growled.

“You realize that you’re expecting _me_ to learn _several_ songs during the very same week?” Jaskier asked.

“Yeah, but you’re… clever,” Lambert smirked. “Ouch! Eskel, tell Geralt to stop hitting me!”

Eskel raised his drumstick.

“If you don’t stop talking so we can _start_ , I’m gonna _help him_!”

“I feel very unloved right now,” Lambert muttered.

“You _are_ very unloved right now, I think,” Renfri chuckled.

“Play us the song, Jask,” Geralt said. “Quick. I think Eskel is about to have a heart attack. Ow. Fuck you, Eskel, I’m on your side!”

“Shut up, then,” Eskel growled. “Jaskier. Take your guitar and fucking _play_.”

“You know, nobody ever told me playing in a metal band was so risky,” Jaskier said. “If I knew… No, no, no, don’t hit the poor bard! I’m playing, see? See? Now, how did it… Oh, yes. _When a humble bard…_ ”

“So unrealistic,” Lambert whispered, and Geralt chuckled.

“Poetic license,” he muttered.

Jaskier winked and kept on singing.

Oh, how he already loved this band of idiots.

Late that night, already in bed, Jaskier opened his Instagram. He knew he probably shouldn’t. Blue light and all that jazz, right? But he was used to browsing his social media before going to sleep, and hey, he never had any trouble sleeping afterwards. So he opened it, only to find out that he had been tagged in a pic… by Renfri?

He looked at the pic. And blinked. And blinked again.

He hadn’t noticed her even taking the photo, but she must have, somehow.

It was of him and Geralt, face to face, both holding their microphones and apparently singing, eyes closed, faces intense with concentration. It must have been in the second half of the rehearsal, because Geralt had already taken off his jacket. He was only in his absolutely inappropriate tight black T-shirt, and it took all of Jaskier’s willpower not to look at those muscular arms. He scrolled to the caption.

_Because it seems that everybody wants to see those two morons on a pic together, I give you: the mighty White Wolf and @jaskierthebard working on Toss a Coin To Your Witcher. And let me tell you – they don’t just look good together, they also sound AMAZING. I can’t wait to play this song live!_

_#kaermorhen #workinghard #rehearsing #thebardandthewolf_

Jaskier rolled his eyes.

The Bard and the Wolf? Seriously?

Yeah, that was never going to catch on…


	6. To Pull On My Horn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my darlings! Real life's been a little shitty lately, but I'm glad that I managed to write at least one chapter this week. :) (Note - if my boss keeps pissing me off, I'll have much more time to write soon, but no money - it's kinda hard to decide what I want more - to have an income, or to tell her to go fuck herself.) I hope this was worth the wait, and as always, I'm so grateful for all your lovely comments! :)

“And it’s… a one again, Geralt, really. Oh, dear. Right. That means… you get swallowed by the selkiemore.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes and growled.

“ _Seriously_ , Vesemir?”

“Seriously.”

“So he’s dead?” a blonde girl (whose character was a princess, unsurprisingly) asked.

“Eh, he’s fine,” Jaskier said.

“Geralt?” Vesemir grinned.

“I cut the selkiemore open from the inside.”

“Of course you do,” Vesemir nodded.

“I offer to give him a bath!” Jaskier exclaimed.

“Of _course_ you do.”

“Excuse me,” the girl said. “Is it going to be my turn soon?”

Vesemir sighed. He was getting too old for this shit…

“Roll for persuasion, Geralt.”

“What? You’re really gonna let him try and convince the guy that I’ve been _kicked–_ ”

“Congrats, Geralt, it’s not a one this time,” Vesemir smirked. “The courtier believes you, offers Jaskier a few of his coins so he could drown his sorrows and leaves you both alone.”

“I protest!” Jaskier said, pointing a finger at Geralt. “How _dare you_ ruin my courtly reputation like that?!”

“I saved your life, Jaskier,” Geralt smiles.

“He did,” Vesemir confirms. “That guy would have cracked your skull open like a fucking coconut.”

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Yes, he would. Because your charisma is ridiculously high, while your strength and constitution are ridiculously _low_.”

“I’m a bard!”

“Yes, and if Geralt didn’t save you, which, may I remind you, is the reason why you decided to _bring him to the party_ , you would have been a very dead bard.”

“I hate both of you,” Jaskier grunted. “I want to sing a song!”

“And what would the song be?”

“The Fishmonger’s daughter.”

“You want to sing _that_ song on a _royal banquet_?” Geralt laughed. “This is gonna be good.”

“Excuse me, what is… Fishmonger’s daughter?” the blonde girl frowned.

“Oh,” Jaskier beamed. “I’m so glad you asked!”

“God,” Geralt chuckled. “Here we go again.”

“Well, since you have, by a fucking miracle, I’d like to add, managed to sort everything out and save his life,” Vesemir said with a pointed look at Geralt, “Duny offers you a reward.”

“I’m good. Don’t want anything.”

“I’m afraid he insists.”

“Right. Fine,” Geralt muttered. “I want that which he already has but does not know.”

“Seriously?!” Jaskier whined. “You’ve just seen the havoc it causes, but you decide to invoke the fucking _Law of Surprise_?!”

“Relax, Jask. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“You barely manage to get the words out when Pavetta clutches her stomach and vomits on the floor,” Vesemir smiled.

“What?!” the blonde girl blinked.

“Fuck,” Geralt said.

“Well, congrats, Geralt,” Jaskier quipped. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a child.”

Jaskier took a sip of his wine and looked at Geralt, who was just finishing his third bottle of beer that evening.

“So… That was a good game, wasn’t it?” he asked.

“Would be better if you stopped commenting on my every decision,” Geralt smirked.

“Wouldn’t that be boring?”

“Oh, no. Some blessed silence would be nice.”

“Yeah, I don’t really go in for that.”

“Vesemir?” Geralt said, cocking his eyebrow at the man who was sitting with them at the table. “Opinions?”

“It would be very hard to find a player who loves his character as much as Jaskier does,” Vesemir grinned. “And I enjoy it when you bring him with you.”

“Ha! See?” Jaskier said.

“But it would be nice if you two stopped scaring off the new players. Three evenings, and every time there’s someone who I know won’t be coming back. All thanks to you.”

“Well, you were the one who got the new girl’s character pregnant, Ves,” Geralt shrugged. “You could have literally given me anything else. A puppy or something.”

“I didn’t like her. She obviously only came here to ogle Geralt.”

“Yes. Very obviously,” Jaskier nodded.

“She what?” Geralt blinked.

“Oh, my sweet summer child,” Jaskier sighed. “She was blatantly eyefucking you the whole time!”

“Was she?”

Vesemir and Jaskier both nodded solemnly.

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered. “Well, it’s obviously your fault. You and your stupid video! Did you really need to mention we play D&D together?!”

“Well… No, but…”

“Your fault, Jask.”

“Oh, come on, you two, don’t be like that,” Vesemir said as he filled Jaskier’s glass with wine. “It’s a big day tomorrow.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jaskier whined, taking the glass and drinking half of its contents in one large gulp. “I came here to forget about it. And now I feel like I’m about to throw up. Again.”

“A bit of a stage fright,” Geralt explained. “Come on, Jask. I keep telling you. You’ve played live before, haven’t you?”

“Yes. But this is my only chance to make a good first impression. The first time I play before your fans. And they will… God, they will all compare me to Yennefer. And I will lose because I don’t have tits and I’m not a woman and I will fuck up the lyrics and… and…”

“Come on, Jaskier,” Vesemir said and clasped Jaskier’s shoulder. “Breathe. Everything’s gonna be fine. You’ll be great.”

“How can you be so sure? You haven’t heard me sing yet!”

“I’ve heard you plenty of times during those three evenings,” Vesemir laughed. “Yennefer can’t hold a candle to you.”

“She’s got tits,” Jaskier murmured.

“Even as her ex-husband I have to admit,” Geralt chuckled, “that you’re a better singer than her.”

“Oh. Thank you, dear heart, that means the world to me.”

“But yeah, she’s got tits.”

“Geralt!” Vesemir said as Jaskier whined and downed the contents of his glass.

“I’m gonna die,” Jaskier babbled. “They’re gonna kill me. Or I’m gonna die of embarrassment. Maybe I should call Lambert. He offered to put me out of my misery.”

“Oh, come on, you drama queen,” Geralt sighed. “You know I was joking.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at him and growled.

“What did you just call me?!”

“A drama queen, _dear heart_.”

Geralt ducked just in time to avoid the D20 flying in his direction.

The next day, roughly fifteen minutes before the gig, Jaskier was sitting in front of a mirror and staring at his reflection. He barely slept at night, and it was showing in his face. He managed to hide the dark circles underneath his eyes and his pale skin with a bit of make-up, but he still looked so… dull?

“You’re not wearing eyeshadow,” Geralt said from behind him.

“I… thought it would be a bit too much. With the… coat… Besides, it’s a bit… Yennefer-y, isn’t it? I mean, she always wore those dark, bold colors...”

“It would be nice if you could stop comparing yourself to our ex singer,” Geralt said. “And I think the coat actually _screams_ for an eyeshadow. Preferably in the same shade. Something like… this.”

He placed a little jar on the table in front of Jaskier. The contents were truly the exact color as Jaskier’s brand new coat – a beautiful steel blue. And sparkling.

“Well, technically, that’s a pigment,” Jaskier said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’m sure you’re right,” Geralt smiled. “Ciri asked me to give it to you, and to make sure you would wear it.”

“Oh, my sweet darling,” Jaskier sighed.

“I hope you realize that you _have_ to wear it now.”

“Of course, of course,” Jaskier nodded, taking the jar in his fingers. “Where is Ciri, anyway?”

“She’s going to watch the show from the bar. With Vesemir.”

“Yeah. Right. He’s here, too.”

“Obviously. As our manager.”

Jaskier’s hand was shaking a little when he started to apply the pigment, but they got steadier quickly.

“Geralt, tell me I’m not gonna fuck up,” Jaskier muttered.

“You’re not gonna fuck up, Jask. You’re gonna be great.”

“God. I hope you’re right. Fuck, I’m so nervous, dear heart. I feel like I’m about to throw up.”

“Don’t you dare. That would fuck up your vocal chords.”

“Thanks for the support,” Jaskier smirked. He scrutinized his reflection again and pursed his lips. “What do you think? Mascara?”

“Absolutely.”

“Not too gay?”

“Gloriously bisexual,” Geralt chuckled. “You’re gonna confuse the hell out of quite a few guys.”

“Oh. Thank you, dear witcher,” Jaskier beamed, reaching for the mascara. “That’s _exactly_ what I needed to hear.”

“You’re welcome, bard,” Geralt said with a smile and turned to leave. “Oh, and by the way, Jask – you look amazing in that coat.”

Jaskier was glad he was wearing make-up, because it at least slightly covered the blush that spread through his cheeks.

Jaskier was watching from the side of the stage as the members of the band took their places. They’d agreed on this, yes. They won’t start the gig as they normally would, by simply taking the stage. No. Instead, Geralt will first take time to introduce Jaskier to the fans.

Jaskier, who was, honestly, about to turn on his heel and run for the hills.

Except that it was too late now. Geralt was already taking his microphone.

“Good evening,” he said, and the audience cheered.

Jaskier gulped. Too many people, too many…

“We are Kaer Morhen,” Geralt continued, and the cheers grew stronger. “And before we start, we want to introduce you to our new singer. Ladies, gentlemen, and everybody else we might have here… Jaskier.”

Jaskier took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, put a cocky smile on his lips and stepped on the stage with the first tones of Song of the White Wolf.

Everything was going great. The audience clearly liked him. He was laughing, winking and singing like his life depended on it. Inside, he was trembling like a leaf. On the outside, he was a perfect showman, simply enjoying the show.

And he _was_ enjoying it. He loved the cheers and the screams and the energy of the crowd.

He was still glad, though, when they finally got to the one song that was exclusively Geralt’s.

“Now,” Geralt said to the audience. “You all know how much I hate when somebody steals my attention. And this little shit here does it even better than Yennefer.”

“Is that a _compliment_ , Geralt?” Jaskier asked into his microphone and he heard the audience laugh.

“Absolutely not,” Geralt replied. “I think we’re all gonna agree it’s time for me to steal some of that attention back.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Jaskier smirked.

“Jaskier.”

“Yes, dear?”

“Why don’t you go backstage for a while? Have a drink or something.”

He was pushing his luck, he knew. Geralt was only supposed to announce the song and Jaskier was supposed to leave, without all this mouthing off. But he just couldn’t help himself.

“Nah, I’m good,” he said, waving his hand.

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed.

“Well, it’s not _my_ fault you cannot compete with awesomeness,” Jaskier shrugged.

Geralt took a deep breath, turned and took two steps towards Jaskier. _Oh, shit_. Even though they were basically the same height, Geralt somehow managed to tower over the bard.

The bard, who was kind of convinced that he was going to die now, but then he saw the tiny smile tugging at Geralt’s lips.

So he did the only logical thing.

He raised his hand and booped Geralt’s nose.

The White Wolf hung his head and his long hair fell over his face. His shoulders began to shake with suppressed laughter.

Well, could be laughter. But…

“All right, all right, no need to cry,” Jaskier said, much to the audience’s amusement. “I’m going. You can enjoy your five minutes of glory. Since that’s all I’m gonna give you.”

With that, he bowed to the fans and left the stage.

“All right,” he heard Geralt saying. “You know what’s coming. This is _The Last Rose of Cintra_.”

Jaskier leaned against the nearest wall. His legs were shaking like mad. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he was going to make it back.

The five minutes of glory weren’t even five minutes. All too soon, Jaskier had to rejoin the band on stage. And to make matters even worse, he was taking his lute with him.

_Lute. A fucking lute. Why the hell did you insist on that, you idiot?!_

He walked back on stage confidently, wearing his most charming smile as an armor to hide his nervousness.

The audience was incredible. Seriously, he never heard _that_ kind of applause as a singer of Dandelions.

“So, did you enjoy your one song?” he asked Geralt.

“Immensely,” Geralt replied, and the audience laughed once again. “But I’m glad you’re back. You know, I thought we might try to play something new.”

“Oh. Really?” Jaskier said, cocking his eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Geralt said. “I was thinking something… A little medieval-inspired. And–”

“I think I know the perfect song,” Jaskier laughed.” It goes like this. _Oh, fishmonger, oh, fishmonger, come quell your daughter’s hunger… To pull on my horn–_ ”

“That’s not the song I meant, and you know it,” Geralt growled. “But I get where you’re going with this. Just for your information, ladies–”

“And gentlemen, and variations thereupon.”

“If anyone’s interested in pulling on Jaskier’s horn–”

“And not just in the morn’.”

“He’ll be with us at the bar after the show,” Geralt finished. “Now, bard, there must be _another_ song that matches my description.”

“Well, now you mention it, there is,” Jaskier grinned and his fingers ran across the strings. “ _When a humble bard..._ ”

The cheers were almost deafening.

Jaskier was the first one to walk into the dressing room. The next second, he fell onto the couch when his legs finally gave out.

“Oh my god,” he said, his voice trembling. “Oh my god, I’ve never… I’ve _never_...”

“You were awesome,” Renfri laughed and grasped his shoulder. “They loved you. You’re the _best_ , buttercup!”

“Don’t know about others, but I loved how you kept mouthing off to Geralt,” Lambert said. “Finally someone gives him what he deserves.”

“Excuse me?!” Geralt growled.

“Oh, come on. Don’t pretend it wasn’t fun,” Eskel smirked. “Especially when Jaskier refused to leave the stage. I was kind of expecting you to throw him over your shoulder and carry him backstage.”

“Fuck. I’ll have to remember that for the next time.”

“Excuse _me_?!” Jaskier said, snapping his head up. “If I am to be carried, I expect to be carried bridal style!”

“Of course you do, Jask. Of course you do.”

Jaskier laughed and closed his eyes.

“Come on, Geralt. Tell me. Was it good enough?”

“It was more than just good enough,” Geralt smiled. “Renfri’s right. You were great.”

“Oh, dear,” Jaskier whispered. “This was so, so much better than any of the gigs with Dandelions. You guys… My god, you’re giving it all you have. And Geralt… Oh, Geralt. How is it even possible to be this perfect? Your growl… The way you move…”

“You,” Renfri chuckled, “need a drink.”

“Yeah. I do,” Jaskier nodded. “I’m gonna take a shower and I’ll head to the bar.”

“I meant right now,” Renfri said, pulling a bottle of clear liquid out of her bag. “So, who wants some vodka?”

“ _How_ does he do that?” Lambert asked, watching Jaskier smile at a young woman who seemed to be completely awestruck by him.

“Oh, you know,” Renfri shrugged. “Pays attention to her. Doesn’t treat her as a thing that only exists for his pleasure. Looks good as hell.”

“Well, two of those seem like way too much work and one is something I can’t even do anything about!”

“Yeah. Not even holy water could help you with your looks.”

“Have I ever told you you’re a terrible bitch, Renfri?”

“And you’re a dick, Lambert.”

“Oh, thank you!”

“Seriously, though. _How_?” Eskel frowned when Jaskier winked at the girl and she looked like she was about to faint.

“He’s a bard,” Geralt smirked.

“Never thought I’d see one in real life,” Vesemir said, lifting his glass of beer. “And it’s your fault, Geralt, anyway. You’re the one who said that if anyone’s interested in pulling on Jaskier’s horn...”

“I want somebody to pull on _my_ horn,” Lambert grunted.

“Ask Jaskier?” Eskel suggested.

“Nah. He’s not into bassists,” Renfri laughed.

They watched as Jaskier put his hand on the girl’s waist and they both headed towards the exit. A few steps later, though, a tall, lean guy stepped into their way.

“Oooh,” Ciri said. “Is that her boyfriend?”

“Cirilla, I told you not to listen and not to look!” Geralt grunted. “You’re way too young for–”

“I’m _fourteen_ , dad.”

“That’s my point.”

“Oh, yeah. By all means, I shouldn’t even be here, in this club, right?”

Geralt turned his head and glowered at her.

“You are an insolent child.”

“Yeah, I know,” she grinned.

“Oh, come _on_!” Lambert moaned and Geralt snapped his head back in Jaskier’s direction, afraid that the guy might be trying to kill the bard.

But no. Absolutely not. Because Jaskier was just leaving, with one hand still on the girl’s waist and the other on the guy’s ass.

“Yup,” Ciri nodded. “He’s a bard.”

Lambert sighed and turned to the bartender.

“Vodka, please. And make it double.”


	7. You Stop This, Jaskier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears! I'm here with a new chapter, after nearly two weeks of absence - and it's a short one. Well, not short, just... shorter than usual. The real life is still being a bitch, my boss is being an even bigger one. You can see how motivated I am from the fact that I'm literally posting this chapter from work. But I still hope you enjoy it, and I hope to post a new (and hopefully longer) chapter much sooner.  
> As always, thank you for all your comments, and I swear I'm gonna make myself reply to them all - I just don't know why...

All eyes turned to the door when Jaskier entered the rehearsal room, a big paper cup of coffee in one hand, a paper bag in the other.

“Fifteen minutes late with Starbucks,” Renfri smirked.

“I have two things to say to that, dear heart,” Jaskier said, taking a sip of his coffee. “First, I’m merely three minutes late. And second, I would never _ever_ in my life set foot in a place as wretched as Starbucks, so don’t you dare accusing me of something so horrible again!”

“Did you stop for a coffee or not, Jask?” Geralt chuckled.

“No. I stopped for something to eat. The coffee was an afterthought.”

He placed the cup on a little table by the couch, sat down right next to Geralt and reached into the paper bag, pulling out a big sandwich which he immediately took a big bite of.

“Wow. Your night must have been _really_ taxing,” Lambert laughed.

“Is Ciri around?” Jaskier mumbled.

“She’s walking Roach,” Geralt said.

“Good. In that case, my dears, I can tell you that my night was _exquisite_. I spent most of it in the middle of a very lovely, well… sandwich. Our fans really do get enthusiastic after a good show!” he grinned, but then he frowned. “Wait, who’s Roach?”

“What do you mean, who’s…” Renfri blinked. “Oh, of course, you haven’t met her yet. Roach is Geralt’s dog. Technically, she’s Roach number two.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said. “Right.”

“She’s a husky,” Eskel added.

“Of course she is. And… She’s coming here with Ciri?” he beamed.

“Yeah. In a few minutes,” Geralt nodded. “A word of advice, though, don’t touch Roach. She doesn’t trust strangers. I adopted her a few months ago. She wasn’t even one year old, but her life must have been really shitty before, so…”

“Poor little thing.”

“Yeah, she’s definitely not like Roach number one,” Renfri sighed. “That was such a sweet girl. This one is like a tornado.”

“But of course, Geralt still adores her,” Eskel said.

“Yes. I seem to have a thing for totally unpredictable and crazy individuals,” Geralt smirked. “Jesus, Jask, are you seriously going to wolf down the whole thing? This must be the biggest sandwich mankind has ever seen. How does it even fit in your _mouth_?”

“Lots of practice.”

“Eating sandwiches?” Lambert said, cocking his eyebrow. “Or stuffing large things into your mouth?”

“The latter,” Jaskier grinned. “And stop giving me that look, Geralt. I’m hungry and I refuse to look like a starving bag of muscle like _some_ of us do.”

“Some of us, Jaskier?” Geralt asked.

“Come on, I saw you getting dressed before the gig yesterday. I mean, yeah, big muscles, ripped body, it’s meant to be sexy, but it only means you should definitely eat more. A little layer of some nice, protective fat would do you good.”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Renfri muttered. “He keeps his body like that because _Yennefer_ liked it.”

“I keep my body like that because _I_ like it,” Geralt growled.

“Well, don’t mind me then,” Jaskier shrugged, taking another bite of his sandwich. “I just tend to like men who are strong _and_ a little soft at the same time. Like Eskel here. But that’s just my problem. If you _want_ to look like this, go on. Hey. _Hey_! That’s my sandwich!”

“You said I should eat more, didn’t you?” Geralt smirked, effortlessly wrestling Jaskier’s snack out of his hands.

“Yes, but I didn’t mean _my sandwich_ , you ass!”

“Too bad,” Geralt said, biting into it. “Oh, this is _delicious_!”

“So glad you like it,” Jaskier muttered. “I’m hungry over here, you know?”

“Shut it. You already have that layer of nice, protective fat,” Geralt mumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. Didn’t use to, you know?” Jaskier sighed, grabbing his coffee. At least something to soothe his hunger. “I used to be really thin. Always hungry. Because Valdo always used to tell me _Oh, Julian, look, those tight pants would look so nice on you, too bad you’re not a size smaller. Oh, Julian, sweetie, look at this guy’s thighs, they don’t even touch each other, isn’t that beautiful? Julian, is that a tiramisu?_ Yeah, it’s a fucking tiramisu, you ass, and I’ll have as much as I want. Ugh. Can’t believe I wasted two years of my life with that bitch.”

A complete silence fell in the rehearsal room and Jaskier suddenly saw everyone was staring at him with their mouths agape.

“I’m sorry,” Lambert finally said, after a few long moments. “Did you say _Valdo_?”

“Mhmf,” Jaskier muttered, trying to hide his face behind his coffee cup.

“As in _Valdo Marx_?” Eskel specified.

“Might have,” Jaskier peeped.

“Are you telling us that you _dated_ fucking Valdo Marx for two years?!” Renfri yelled. “And you starved yourself for him?!”

“We broke up three years ago!” Jaskier said, throwing his arms open and nearly knocking the sandwich out of Geralt’s hand. “I was an idiot, okay? I thought I was glad to have found him, thought no one would be ever able to love the real me, blah blah blah. Took me way too long to realize I was being a total idiot and break up with him. He’s hated me ever since and my mother’s yet to speak to me again.”

“Your mother?” Eskel frowned.

“She thought Valdo and I would get married, adopt a kid and I would become a perfect housewife for him,” Jaskier sighed.

“Wow. She doesn’t know you at all, does she?” Renfri chuckled.

“Not in the slightest, honey.”

Lambert shook his head.

“Honestly, I’m still trying to process that someone like you would spend two years fucking that insufferable prick. _Valdo Marx_. Fuck.”

“Could we maybe stop discussing Valdo fucking Marx?” Geralt grunted. “Has anyone read the reactions to the gig yet? Because I haven’t.”

“Yes. Thank you, my lovely white wolf. Absolutely. Let’s focus on the reviews, because I kind of haven’t had the time yet to...”

The door swung open and a large husky came barging in, heading straight for the couch.

“Roach! Stop!” Ciri yelled behind the dog.

Roach stopped in front of Geralt, sniffed at his sandwich, and then turned her head to Jaskier.

The bard, remembering that the dog didn’t like strangers, avoided her eyes and merely offered her his hand. The next thing he knew, he had a massive dog in his lap and a wet nose was enthusiastically sniffing at his face.

He yelped when a broad tongue licked his nose.

“What was it you said about her not liking strangers?”

“I’ve never seen her do anything like this before, I swear!” Geralt chuckled, taking a coffee cup from Jaskier’s hand so it wouldn’t spill. “Roach, get down. Bad girl.”

The dog gave a tiny, desperate whine.

“I said get down,” Geralt repeated.

Roach turned her body to Geralt, eyed his sandwich and whined again.

“What did we say about begging for food?”

She lowered her head and looked pleadingly at her owner.

“Oh, I love her already,” Jaskier laughed. “Will love her even more when she stops crushing my crotch. Hi, Ciri, by the way.”

“Hi, Jaskier,” the girl replied. “Sorry, dad. I didn’t think she would do that. Where did you get the sandwich?”

“Stole it. Shamelessly!” Jaskier huffed. “Geralt, your dog is heavy as hell, you know it?”

“Roach. _Get. The fuck. Down_.”

Another whine.

“Oh, dear,” Jaskier chuckled. “Well, can someone at least read me those reviews and make me happy before I die?”

“Don’t you have your own phone?” Geralt asked.

“I do. In my pocket. Underneath _your dog_.”

“Right. Ciri?”

The girl already had the phone in her hand.

“On it.”

“Good,” Jaskier muttered. “And give me back my coffee, Geralt, because if you decide to steal _that_ too, my chances of survival will grow even lower than they are now!”

“You really are such a drama queen, Jask…”

“The Bard and the Wolf? What the hell is that?” Geralt frowned after the third (very positive) fan review of their gig. He had already finished Jaskier’s sandwich, and even managed to get Roach down from Jaskier’s lap. That seemed to be a mistake, as the dog clearly decided to hate him for that – judging by the fact that she was currently sitting on the floor by Jaskier’s leg and tapping his hand with her paw every time he had the audacity to stop petting her. She was completely ignoring Geralt’s very existence.

“Oh, that’s a new hasthtag. My creation,” Renfri said. “I needed to tag a pic with you two, and I thought of this...”

“What, instead of The Witcher and the Witch?” Lambert asked.

“And what’s that?” Jaskier asked before he could think better of it.

He should have expected the answer, of course.

“The hashtag people used to use for Geralt and Yennefer,” Eskel explained. “It was her character. A witch.”

“Oh, good,” Jaskier muttered. “Shouldn’t it have been _The Witcher and the Bard_ , then?”

“Doesn’t have the same ring to it,” Renfri shrugged. “Besides, Geralt’s more of a Wolf, really.”

“True,” Jaskier nodded. “But to be honest, I don’t think it’s gonna stick.”

“You’re probably right,” Renfri nodded. “I’ve seen it used like… four times. But everyone calls _you_ The Bard.”

“Perfect,” Jaskier grinned. “What do you think, Roach, isn’t it perfect? No, no, no! Roach! _My coffee_!”

He shrieked as the dog suddenly turned and jumped back onto his lap, knocking the cup out of his hand.

“Oh, dear, even _dogs_ adore him,” Lambert sighed. “How is that fair?”

“Geralt!” Jaskier yelled. “Geralt, would you _help me_ instead of fucking _laughing_?!”

“So sorry, dear heart,” Geralt chuckled. “But I think Roach has found her new favorite human.”

“I’m really glad to hear that! Oh, Geralt, you’re so gonna _pay for this shirt_!”

A few hours later, Jaskier was sitting on the couch in his living room, sipping wine and scrolling and scrolling and scrolling through his social media.

He knew he shouldn’t. He knew that it was narcissistic and, well, stupid. But he had to see. Had to convince himself that it hadn’t only been his imagination that afternoon.

He had to convince himself that yes, Kaer Morhen’s fans really _did_ like his mad, cheeky, queer self. There were even a few who claimed that he was an improvement on Yennefer. An _improvement_! It was a dream come true.

He forced himself to stop and he put his phone down. Took a sip. Picked his phone back up.

He couldn’t help himself.

He gulped when he saw that Ciri had posted a new photo from the rehearsal room. A photo of Jaskier and Geralt sitting on the couch, with Roach on Jaskier’s lap. It must have been shortly after Roach knocked the coffee out of Jaskier’s hand, because Geralt was clearly laughing and Jaskier was just starting to.

_Roach meeting @jaskierthebard for the first time. In case you couldn’t tell, she really hates strangers... #thebardandthewolf #andawolf #loveatfirstsight #husky #dogsofinstagram_

Jaskier smiled and liked the post, and then kept looking at the picture a little longer.

He really loved Geralt’s expression there. It was so open, so happy and so damn beautiful.

Jaskier sighed, forced himself to put the phone down and closed his eyes, but he couldn’t stop himself from seeing the white-haired man’s face.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” he whispered to himself. “You stop this, Jaskier. You stop this right now, because if you don’t, you’ll only get in trouble.”

He could stop his thoughts, yes. But he couldn’t stop his heart from beating a little faster.

Geralt knocked on his daughter’s door.

“Ciri, it’s eleven already. Lights out.”

He waited, but she didn’t answer, so he opened the door carefully.

The girl was asleep on her bed, dressed in her pajamas, with her laptop next to her.

Geralt took the laptop and the screen lit up. He stopped and blinked. Ciri had a new wallpaper – of Geralt, Jaskier and Roach in the rehearsal room.

He looked at the picture and smiled. He had never seen Roach fall for someone so fast, but here she was, sitting on the bard’s lap, happy as ever.

And Jaskier…

Geralt shut the laptop and shook his head to clear it.

No. He wasn’t going to go there. No way.

He placed the laptop on a table, covered Ciri with a blanket and kissed her forehead.

“Good night, my lion cub,” he whispered to her. “Sweet dreams.”

He turned off the light and closed the door behind himself.


	8. We Know What You’re Like, Jask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hello, my darlings. It's me (once again) with a new chapter. I promised it would come sooner, didn't I? And look, I kept my promise! You may have also noticed I've updated the fic a little and gave all the chapters actual names. Yay, me!  
> Now, you may find this chapter a little darker than those before (but only a little), but I promise it'll get better soon. ;) (And just o be sure, in case it wasn't written clear enough - everything that happens between Jaskier and a certain character in this chapter is 100 % concensual, I swear, and it will be once again explained in the next chapter.) ;)  
> A word of warning - this chapter references to a past sexual relationship between a sixteen-year-old and a nineteen-year-old. (To be clear once again - the sixteen-year-old was very enthusiastic about it back then.)

Three weeks had passed.

They kept rehearsing, of course. Not as often as before the gig, though. Their next gig was going to be about thirty minutes long, again, and Jaskier already knew the lyrics.

So he spent the time trying to write new songs (and failing spectacularly, for some reason), working (he had to admit that he’d neglected his students a little in that hellish week before the first gig) and, well… daydreaming about a certain white-haired witcher.

He tried to stop himself. He really, truly did. He knew it was a bad idea to fall for another member of the band. And he hadn’t fallen yet. He was just… hanging from a high cliff, clinging desperately to the crumbling rock. With only one hand. Well, honestly, it was more like… two fingers.

But he wasn’t going to fall.

He wasn’t.

He fucking _wasn’t_.

“Professor Jaskier?” said a voice next to him.

He blinked and shook his head to clear it.

“I’m sorry, Emma, I wasn’t… paying attention. Could you play it again, please? And it’s Jaskier. Not professor.”

The dark-haired girl next to him bit her lower lip. She was about as old as Ciri was, but nowhere near as talkative or confident.

“I know. You’ve told me. Mom says I’m only allowed to call you professor Jaskier… or Mr. Pankratz.”

“Don’t you dare calling me Mr. Pankratz,” he smirked. “And don’t worry. I’m gonna have a word with your mother.”

“That’s not gonna help, I’m afraid,” she sighed. “Professor...”

“Oh, dear. What?”

“Is that… The instrument you brought. Is that a lute?”

“Yes, Emma, it’s a lute,” he grinned. “You see, when I’m done here, I’m heading to my new band’s rehearsal...”

Where he would see Geralt for the first time in five days. He cursed the tiny flutter in his chest and focused on the girl again.

“Sorry. Not one of my best days,” he smiled. “Would you like to see the lute?”

The girl beamed. “Could I?”

“Sure. Why not?” he said, already on his way to get it. “You can even try to play it, if you want. Of course, it’s way too big and heavy for you, but it doesn’t really matter, you can try just for fun.”

He removed the lute from its casing and handed it to the girl.

“Just be careful, darling. Because I love her very, very much, and it would break my heart if anything was to happen to her.”

The door of the living room opened and a woman with her hair as dark as the kid walked in.

“I can’t hear any music. Is there a problem?”

The girl sighed, staring longingly at the lute.

“No,” Jaskier said quickly. “No problems. We’re just taking a little break, that’s all.”

“I’m not paying you for breaks, Jaskier.”

“Try the lute out, Emma,” he muttered to the girl. “I’m gonna have a little talk with mom, right?”

“There’s nothing to talk about–” the woman started, but Jaskier was already grabbing her by the arm.

“Yes, there is,” he said, leading her out of the room and closing the door behind them. “You’re way too hard on that girl, Stella. Go on, and she’ll start to either be afraid of you, or hate you. And maybe both.”

“If I’m not hard on her,” she sighed, “she will come home at seventeen, impregnated by some idiot who will then pretend he’s never seen her and the kid definitely isn’t his.”

Jaskier wanted to say _You mean like you did?_ , but he held his tongue.

“I don’t see how being able to play the violin could help in that situation, if you don’t expect her to shove a bow up that boy’s ass.”

“If she’s busy, she won’t have time to spread her legs to random boys.”

“Jesus Christ, Stella, she’s… what, thirteen?!”

“Nearly fourteen. How old were you when you had sex for the first time?”

Jaskier’s eyes snapped to the door.

“I just turned sixteen, and you know it _damn well_.”

She smiled at him.

“Oh, yes. So young and innocent.”

“You still can’t see how fucked-up it was, right? You were nineteen, for fuck’s sake. And already had a kid!”

“It was you who was so desperate to get under my skirts back then, darling.”

“Yes, but you could have stopped me. Should have stopped me.”

“You were singing _ballads_ about me. You kept sending me poems. I’m not made of stone. And you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

“She hates the violin, you know?” he said, trying to change the subject.

“She _will_ keep playing it.”

“Come on, Stella. I mean… I get it that you want to keep her busy, but you could at least let her play another instrument. Something she really enjoys.”

“Could I?” Stella smiled, arching her eyebrow. “I could, of course. But how will you convince me to actually allow it, Jaskier?”

Jaskier sighed inwardly. He knew where she was heading. He’d been through this a few times with her already. And he wasn’t really _into_ it now , but hey, it could really help the girl _and_ take his mind off a certain white-haired wolf… And anyway, he wasn't a guy who would turn down an offer for sex, was he? Sex was good. She was hot. It wasn't her fault that she wasn't Geralt.

So he put on his cocky smile and leaned closer to her.

“What would you like me to do?” he murmured. “My dear _Countess de Stael_?”

“What the fuck you mean he can’t make it?!” Geralt snarled.

“How am I supposed to know?” Renfri shrugged. “That’s all he texted me. _Emergency lesson with a student, can’t make it today, postpone to tomorrow_?”

“What the hell is an _emergency lesson_ , anyway?” Lambert frowned. “Does someone’s life depend on learning Beethoven’s Fifth before sundown?”

“No idea. Should I call him?”

“Nah. It’s probably an excuse, anyway. I’d bet he’s just tangled in someone’s bed sheets right now.”

“That’s just great,” Geralt growled. “So the band can go fuck itself, because _Jaskier_ can’t keep his cock in his pants, right?”

“Come on, Geralt,” Eskel smirked. “Lambert’s just being a prick. As usual.”

“I think he’s right, though,” Geralt sighed. “Jaskier is a… Jaskier.”

“A _whore_ is the word you’re looking for,” Lambert said helpfully.

“He’s not,” Renfri shook her head. “He’s just… easily distracted. And falls madly in love with everyone he meets.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Geralt muttered. “If I find out he was… warming up his sausage instead of being here, I’m gonna kill him.”

“You’re not,” Eskel said. “The battle of the bands is in a month, and I’d prefer not having to find another idiot who would be able to learn the lyrics _and_ who can play the lute.”

“Hmmm.”

“And don’t _hmmm_ me, Geralt. If you want to kill him, do it _after_ the competition, you hear me?”

“Hmmm.”

“And _I_ could kill him?” Lambert asked.

“Nobody’s killing anyone!” Eskel groaned. “Jesus Christ, I really hope someone’s life _did_ depend on learning the Fifth before sundown...”

“So. I actually went to see you with your new band, _Jaskier_.”

Jaskier, who was just pulling up his underwear, paused.

“You did?” he frowned.

“Of course,” she smiled and stretched out on the bed, eyeing his cock.

“And?” Jaskier said, finally pulled his underwear all the way up and started to look for his pants. “Did you like it?”

“Honestly, I think it’s a tragedy,” she said. “To see you, with all your talent, in the middle of that… band of complete _idiots_.”

“I actually like those idiots, you know?” he sighed.

“Can’t really see why. But don’t worry, lovely. _You_ were amazing, of course.”

“Oh, well. Thank you.”

“I still don’t understand why you insist on being in a band, though. You need to start your own solo career. That way, you would truly shine, gorgeous.”

“Thanks, Stella–”

“Excuse me?” she said, arching her eyebrow.

“Countess de Stael,” he corrected himself. “But I really enjoy being in a band. Especially in this band.”

“Life’s not just about things you enjoy, Jaskier. It’s about things that are good for you. Things that need to be done.”

“I know. But if you can, you should do what pleases you.”

“And what is it that pleases you, hm?”

He pulled a T-shirt over his head, trying to force a pair of amber eyes out of his mind.

“Right now? Playing with my band of idiots,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “See you tomorrow. Night, Stella.”

Jaskier wasn’t late to the rehearsal next day. In fact, he was twenty minutes too early, just to be safe. He hoped he would make up for his absence the day before, especially to Geralt. Because according to Renfri, Geralt was _mad_ at him. Which was fair, he supposed. He really should have let them know sooner that he wouldn’t be able to make it.

Still, he kind of prayed to the gods that the Wolf would arrive last, so he wouldn’t have to face him alone.

The Wolf arrived first, of course. With Renfri, but it made little difference.

“You could have at least covered the hickey,” Geralt said after taking a single look at the bard.

Jaskier winced.

“I wanted to. But the weather’s a bit hot for a scarf, so it would be pretty obvious anyway,” he muttered. “Look, I’m really sorry about yesterday–”

“Yeah, next time just text that you’ve got a date and don’t lie,” Geralt growled. “We know what you’re like, Jask, we won’t be surprised.”

That hurt. That really, really hurt.

“Yeah. Right. Sorry.”

Jaskier bit his lip and looked away. He’d lied because the last thing he wanted was to disappoint Geralt, but it seemed that was exactly what he did.

He must have looked utterly devastated, because Geralt actually sighed and a tiny smile appeared on his lips.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” he said. “Just… Please. I don’t like being lied to.”

“I won’t do it again. Promise.”

Renfri, who had been ostentatiously staying away from their drama, nudged Jaskier in the ribs.

“So who was it, eh? A new flame?”

“An old acquaintance, actually,” Jaskier smiled, glad for the distraction. “It’s an… on and off thing. We’ve known each other for a while. Spend a few weeks fucking occasionally, then go on with our lives.”

“Sounds horrible,” Geralt said.

“Well, it wasn’t the healthiest relationship when we started,” Jaskier admitted. _Especially with the age difference_ _._ “But we’ve grown, and now we know exactly what we want from each other.”

_She wants someone to obey her. I want a distraction._

“Sweet. What’s his name?” Renfri grinned.

“Her,” Jaskier said. “And well, if you _need_ to know, she likes to be called Countess de Stael.”

“Even in bed?”

“Especially in bed.”

Geralt growled. “I really didn’t need to know _that_.”

“Oh, come on, Geralt. Don’t spoil the fun,” Renfri said. “Jaskier always tells us all about his newest conquests.”

“What conquests?” Lambert asked from the door. “So you _were_ screwing some poor young maiden yesterday?”

“A _Countess de Stael_ ,” Renfri laughed.

“Oh, I’ve heard of her. Kinky. Good for you, I guess,” Lambert grinned. “Isn’t she older than you, though?”

“A bit, yeah,” Jaskier nodded. “But it really doesn’t matter. It’s just sex.”

“Right. From what I’ve heard, it would be extremely stupid to fall in love with her.”

“Extremely, yes,” Jaskier confirmed. “I actually managed to do it, a few years back. I was young and naive. I’m much smarter now.”

“Smart enough not to fall in love with someone you can’t have?”

“Dear gods, no. Never,” Jaskier chuckled. “Smart enough not to fall in love with her. I hope. Also, you’re a dick, Lambert.”

“Thanks. It’s one of my best qualities,” Lambert grinned.

“Oh, come on, guys, could you lighten up a little?” Renfri whined. “You’re making Geralt… Well, not sad. You’re making Geralt _grumpy_ , and that’s even worse.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Geralt groaned.

“Oh, yes, you _are_ ,” Jaskier said. “Come on, Geralt, I said I was sorry. I promise I won’t do it again. Please, stop being mad at me. I won’t survive it if you keep being mad at me!”

A little smile tugged at Geralt’s lips.

“Of course you will survive, you overly dramatic prick.”

“No, I will not. I will die, knowing I will never see you smile at me again, my heart shattered to pieces, and it’s gonna be _your fault_.”

Geralt actually chuckled at that.

“Maybe you could ask the _Countess_ to smile at you.”

“Yeah, I could. But she’s not you. Come on, Geralt.” He clutched his chest dramatically. “I can already feel my heart giving up, fluttering, trying desperately to–”

“You’re such a _moron_ , Jask,” Geralt said.

“Are you smiling or not?” Jaskier grinned.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Damn you.”

“Honey, I’ve been damned since the day I was born.”

Geralt laughed.

“I’m glad to see you’re back to your old dramatics,” he said. “I was kind of worried for a while.”

Before Jaskier could reply, the door opened and Eskel stepped into the room.

“Oh. You’re all here. That’s new,” he blinked. “I come bearing good news. Well… maybe not.”

“Good news but maybe not?” Lambert frowned. “The fuck?”

“Vesemir called.”

“And he called _you_?” Geralt asked. “I mean… _I’m_ obviously his favorite. Why didn’t he call me?”

“He did. You weren’t answering.”

“So… What’s going on?” Renfri said, just as Geralt fished his phone out of his leather jacket pocket, swearing.

“He got us a new gig. Full-length.”

“That’s good news, isn’t it?” Jaskier grinned. “We needed a gig or two before the competition.”

“It’s tomorrow,” Eskel said.

“Oh,” Geralt muttered. “Fuck.”

Jaskier took a bite of his hamburger.

“Dear Lord, this is _heaven_ ,” he moaned. “I really was about to die of hunger. Thank you, Geralt, thank you so much!”

“I just ordered the food,” Geralt laughed when he swallowed a mouthful of his own burger. “But it was Renfri’s idea.”

“You’re free to keep the credit for it,” Renfri winked. “Have you tried the potato wedges yet? They’re awesome.”

“Are they?” Geralt grinned.

“Hey! Those are mine!” Jaskier protested.

“Were,” Geralt said, stuffing a few wedges into his mouth. “Oh, yes. _Delicious_.”

“Come on, Geralt,” Lambert mumbled. “How do you want to keep being skinny if you eat like a pig?”

“Maybe I don’t,” Geralt shrugged.

“Oh, so you’ve decided to grow that layer of _nice, protective fat_?” Jaskier asked.

“Maybe,” Geralt smiled. “And stop grinning like an idiot, Jask, and eat. We need to get back to work if we want to wrap up before midnight.”

In the end, they wrapped up at half past eleven, exhausted, but satisfied. Jaskier was about to drop dead, really, but he was happy. A few hours ago, he had been panicking about the gig, but now he felt ready for it. They rehearsed all the songs he hadn’t played with them before. They did it again, and again, and again.

“Good job tonight, Jask,” Geralt said, clasping his shoulder. “Can we drop you off at your place?”

“I’m not going home,” he sighed. His mind was a little fuzzy. “Wait, we?”

“I’m going with Geralt,” Renfri said. “Obviously, since I live with him.”

“You live in _my house_ ,” Geralt smirked. “In your own flat.”

“Shush. It sounds better when I say I live with _you_.”

“Whatever,” Geralt shrugged, grabbing his jacket. “Let’s go, Jask.”

Jaskier blinked. “I just told you–”

“Yeah, you’re not going home. I get it,” Geralt nodded. “Just give her address to me, I’ll drive you there.”

“It’s fine, Geralt. I can walk. it’s not far–”

“That wasn’t a question, Jask. It’s nearly midnight and you’re tired, if you think I’m gonna let you walk… Well, you’re wrong. Let’s go.”

“Jaskier,” she said when she opened the door for him. “I almost stopped hoping you’d show up.”

“I promised, didn’t I?” he sighed. “Didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Well, you should have went home. You look horrible. And you’ve already disappointed me. I was looking forward to spending a nice evening with you, but you decided you’d rather be with that group of–”

“Stop,” Jaskier said. “Keep that tone for your toy boys, Stella. You know, those who are seven years younger than me and madly in love with you.”

“It used to work on you, too,” she smiled sweetly.

“Yeah, but I was seven years younger than I am now, and madly in love with you,” he smirked. “Do you want to fuck or not?”

“Look who’s showing his claws,” she laughed. “Come on, then. Do you want something to eat?”

“No, I’m not hungry,” he said, but then grinned. “Well, I _am_ , but… not like that.”

“Oh? What are you hungry for, then?”

“I think you know,” he muttered. “My dear Countess.”

“Good boy,” she nodded. “Let’s get you to bed.”


	9. Snap Me Out Of It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears! No, you're not hallucinating, I'm really back with a new chapter, some 36 hours after the last one. Because I really needed to get this chapter out of my system as soon as possible. The characters insisted. Also, I know that if I don't finish a chapter during a weekend, it will usually take me until the next weekend to do it. And I didn't want to make you wait that long.  
> So here it is. As I promised, it contains a full explanation of Jaskier's relationship with Countess de Stael (and you will probably understand why I couldn't fit it into the last chapter - it's waaay too long, and besides, we needed some, uhm, other characters to get a little worried about Jaskier), and also some scenes that should make her a little more likeable. :)  
> Word of warning - this chapter once again references to a sex between a sixteen-year-old and a nineteen-year-old, but it makes it clear that the sixteen-year-old was more than excited about it. ;)

“I’ve got something for you,” Geralt said and Jaskier nearly poked his own eye out with his eyeliner.

“Jesus Christ, Geralt, warn a guy!” he snorted, closing his hurting eye shut.

“Sorry,” Geralt muttered. “I can come later, if you–”

“Oh, no, if you have a gift for me, I want it. Gimme,” Jaskier grinned.

“Right. It’s… I just had this idea, wanted to try something new, and I… thought you might like it.”

And w ere Geralt’s cheeks really getting a little pink?

“The gift, Geralt,” Jaskier laughed. “Stop talking and give it to me.”

“Right. Yes. Here.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a  silver ring – it looked like a signet ring, actually, beautifully engraved all around – but the top part was the best. It held an engraved letter J in the middle of a little buttercup.

Jaskier opened his watering eye to take a proper look at the ring in Geralt’s hand.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he breathed out. “Geralt, it’s beautiful. I can’t… I can’t take this!”

“You can. And you will,” Geralt grinned. “I’m glad you like it.”

“But… It must have taken ages to make!”

“It did. The buttercup was the hardest. Letters are easy, but I’ve actually never tried to engrave a buttercup… Or, well, any flower. My usual customers prefer wolves and monsters. A tree, if I’m lucky.”

“I… I… I don’t know what to say,” Jaskier whispered as he took the ring from Geralt’s hand and put it on his finger. It fit perfectly. “Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.”

“It is enough,” Geralt smiled. “You’re welcome, Jask. By the way, you’ve got a black smudge all across your right cheek.”

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Jaskier swore, turning back to his mirror. “This is all your fault, witcher!”

“Sorry, bard,” Geralt shrugged. “But apart from that, you look lovely as always.”

“Wait until this is finished. I’m actually planning on wearing a dark pink lipstick tonight. Matte. It’s gonna look wonderful.”

“Didn’t you use to be afraid you’re gonna seem too gay?”

“Use to,” Jaskier laughed. “But then I realized… Screw it. I’ll just be me. And I like wearing lipstick from time to time.”

He looked at Geralt’s reflection in the mirror and saw the wolf smiling.

“I like it when you’re you,” Geralt said and opened the door of the dressing room. “Oh, and you’ve got five minutes to finish getting ready. Bye.”

Jaskier swore.

There was now a paper-thin wall between him and falling madly in love with Geralt. But he was sure he would be able  to do something  to reinforce it. He was strong. His resolution not to fall was as hard as steel. He could do it.

He was sure of it.

His resolution (and the paper-thin wall) crumbled to pieces some thirty minutes later, when Jaskier once again refused to leave the stage before Th e Last Rose Of Cintra, and Geralt did exactly what he had threatened to do – he threw Jaskier over his shoulder and carried him off the stage himself.

“And what are _you_ doing here?”

Stella turned her head to the right and smiled.

“Waiting for you, my dear,” she replied.

“Are you?” Jaskier grinned. “Are you here to offer to _pull on my horn_?”

“Well, I wanted to,” she replied. “But then I met this very nice woman who asked me to spend a night with her, and, well...”

“Oh, no, please, don’t continue. My heart’s already been broken!” Jaskier sighed dramatically. “Damn. I really was in mood for some sex tonight.”

“Judging from the scowling faces watching us now, there’s probably a line already forming for your horn, sweetie,” she grinned. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“Of course not,” he winked. “Go find your woman. Have fun. Where’s Emma, by the way?”

“At her best friend’s place. They’re having a sleepover with a few girls from school. I might be about to win the mother of the year award, I’ve allowed it for the second time in a month.”

“Wow. You really are the best.”

“I know,” she nodded, finishing her drink. “And by the way, Jaskier… I’m starting to understand why you like this new band of yours so much. You were great. All of you. Especially you, of course, but… I really enjoyed the show.”

“Are you drunk, Stella?” he frowned. “You’re uncharacteristically nice.”

“Maybe a little,” she laughed. “Mostly, I’m really looking forward to being railed all night long by a gorgeous woman.”

“I’m gorgeous. And I’d rail you if you wanted.”

“Hate to break it to you, Jaskier… But you’re not a woman.”

“Damn. Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” she said and kissed his cheek. “By the way, I’d go for the redhead over there.”

“Oh, yes. That’s the plan.”

E verything was great.

The fans were excited about the gig.

The band was excited about the fan’s reactions.

Jaskier had some amazing sex with the redhead last night.

(And was about to have some amazing sex with Countess de Stael in a few hours.)

Jaskier should have been happy. He should have been over the moon. 

So why wasn’t he?

(The answer was obvious – because every time he looked at Geralt, his stupid heart  _ fluttered _ . Because his throat tightened whenever Geralt smiled at him. Because when  the band gathered in the rehearsal room the day after the gig and Geralt casually threw his arm over Jaskier’s shoulders and proclaimed the bard to be the best thing that ever happened to Kaer Morhen, Jaskier’s knees went weak, and it wasn’t  at all caused by the weight of Geralt’s muscular arm.)

(Because #thebardandthewolf was becoming quite a popular hashtag, filled with pictures of him and Geralt on stage.  And cute pictures at that. Mostly of Jaskier smiling at Geralt. And Geralt smiling at Jaskier. And both of them singing together. And, of course, of Jaskier being carried from the stage on Geralt’s shoulder. There were  _ many _ of those. )

Honestly, he couldn’t wait for the band’s little post-gig gathering to end.

“Jask? Could I talk to you for a minute?”

He swore inwardly and let go of his jacket.

“Yeah?” he said.

It was just him, Geralt and Renfri in the rehearsal room now. Eskel and Lambert had already left. And it was obvious that Geralt didn’t want them around for this.

“We just wanted to ask you if you’re… all right,” Renfri said. “Because yesterday, we saw you talking with who we _assume_ was your… Countess, but then you left with someone else, and, well, you’re not being exactly… you today…”

Jaskier sighed.

“Honey, I appreciate your concern, really. But everything’s fine. I’m a little tired, that’s all.”

“Are you sure?” Geralt asked. “Because I questioned Lambert–”

“ _Questioned_?” Jaskier smirked.

“I _asked_ about that Countess of yours, and what he told me wasn’t exactly… reassuring.”

“You can’t believe everything you hear.”

“Jask… We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” Jaskier said. Both Geralt and Renfri were watching him with their eyes full of doubt. Jaskier swore and sat down on the couch. “Look. I don’t know which stories Lambert heard, there’s quite a few of them. And I admit, most of them would make me run away screaming if I didn’t know her.”

“Do you really know her, though?” Geralt frowned, sitting in an armchair opposite of Jaskier. Renfri took another chair. Jaskier was starting to feel like this was some sort of an interrogation.

“I’ve known her since I was fifteen,” he said. “She was my first muse. The girl of my dreams. Well, one kind of dreams.”

“Jesus, Jaskier,” Renfri grimaced.

“You wanted to know,” he shrugged. “Look, I first got her when I was sixteen. She was nineteen and she was my first. I was so _proud_ of myself for seducing her. I was madly in love with her for years afterwards. I know, I know, the age difference. I agree that it was kind of… weird, but I really didn’t care about that. I was sixteen and it was the first time I was seeing tits that weren’t in a magazine. That was _big_.”

“Oh, yes, I saw the tits yesterday. _Big_ ,” Renfri nodded. “Oh, come on, Geralt, stop giving me that look. I also lost my virginity at sixteen, and the guy was nearly nineteen. Basically the same situation, the only difference is that I wasn’t writing poems about him.”

“Who told you I was writing poems?!”

“Come on, Jaskier. It’s you we’re talking about. There has to be a ballad about her tits somewhere.”

“What do you think of me, Renfri? There are _five_.”

“Why am I not surprised,” she chuckled.

“Could we just… get back on track?” Geralt grunted. “Wait, _five_? Her tits were nice, I agree, but did they really deserve five ballads?”

“I was a horny teenager, Geralt.”

“Right. Go on.”

“Fine. See, it wasn’t her fault that I fell in love with her. She made it perfectly clear she wasn’t looking for anything more than sex. And to be fair, we had sex that one time, and then nothing happened between us until I was… twenty-one? Yeah. We didn’t even see each other, she moved to a different city, but for me, she was still my goddess. Then I met her at twenty-one, stayed in love with her for another year or so, and then I finally understood that she will never love me back and I found another muse.”

“I’m sorry, are you trying to convince us that she’s good for you?” Renfri said, arching her eyebrow.

“She is,” Jaskier nodded. “She is… Oh, to hell with it. I bet Lambert knows this and just decided not to tell you. She’s not just a woman who likes to torture young boys. She’s a dominatrix. Guys actually _pay_ her to boss them around. She likes it, yeah, she gets off on it, but no matter what you heard, she would never do anything non-consensual. To anyone. Especially not me.”

“And you are…” Geralt blinked. “Are _you_ paying her?”

“Oh, no, she does me for free,” Jaskier smirked. “I’m not… her usual client. I’m not a sub. Hell, I’m not even a _bottom_. It’s just… Hell, this is hard to explain. You see, I told you we had this on and off thing going on. And it’s true. Sometimes we just have sex. Sometimes… I call her. Usually after a breakup or something, when I’m not okay, when I’m wallowing in self-pity, when I’m not… me. And she knows what I need. She forces me to submit to her. She presses all the right buttons, pushes me into a position she knows I hate, and in a week or two, I come back to my senses and start to push back. And the moment I do, I’m fine. Simple as that.”

“That’s… not that bad, actually,” Renfri said. “I mean… Everything’s consensual, really?”

“Absolutely,” Jaskier nodded. “Trust me, guys. She’s helped me through a lot. Like… The breakup with that bitch Valdo? I was in a really bad place after that. And she took me and in three weeks I was back to my old pre-Valdo self.”

“What is she helping you through this time?” Geralt asked. “Because I really thought you were happy when you joined the band.”

_ You, you idiot. She’s helping me through you _ , Jaskier thought.

“Oh, nothing,” he said out loud, grinning. “This time it’s just about the great sex.”

“Are you sure, Jask? Because you really don’t seem like you.”

“I told you. I’m tired. I slept for… two hours or so. Also, my jaw is pretty sore. The ginger was awfully demanding. I had to spend like an _hour_ with my head between her thighs and she kept demanding more, you wouldn’t believe–”

“Right, right,” Geralt stopped him. “Now you definitely seem like you.”

“Glad to be of service,” Jaskier nodded. “Can I go now? I’ve got a date, you know. And I’m gonna have to find a way to compensate her for not being able to go down on her. And I don’t think fingers are gonna be enough.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Renfri laughed, standing up. “And buttercup?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

Jaskier smiled and nodded.

He definitely wasn’t okay.

A week went by. A wee k with no rehearsals, no D&D, no seeing Geralt.

A week when he spent most nights with the Countess.

It was supposed to help, but it didn’t. He still felt like shit.

Even his students noticed that he wasn’t his usual sunshiny self, no matter how much he tried to be.

“No, no, no, I think that’s enough for today,” he told Emma with a fake smile. “Playing the lute is hard. I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“I’m not overwhelmed. I love it!” the girl beamed.

“That’s good,” he nodded. “Perhaps you will finally start to practice, then.”

“I will!” she nodded. “Every day, I promise, Jaskier.”

“Not Professor?” he arched his eyebrow.

“Mum says it’s fine to call you Jaskier,” the girl said. “I think she must have hit her head or something.”

“Hit her head? Why?”

“Because she’s different now. She’s… She let me go to a sleepover with my friends, she said I could start playing the lute, and when I failed a math test yesterday she just sighed and said that she always sucked at math, too!”

“That’s… weird, I admit,” Jaskier nodded. “I mean… Oh, Stella! Have you been there long?”

“Long enough,” she said. “How was your lesson, Emma? A virtuoso yet?”

“Not yet,” the girl shook her head. “But it was great. Thanks for letting me try it, mum!”

“You should thank Jaskier for convincing me,” she shrugged.

“Thanks, Jaskier,” the girl said, smiling at him.

“You’re welcome, dear heart.”

“Could you leave us alone now, Emma? There’s something we need to discuss. I brought chocolate cake, by the way. So take some, if you want.”

“I told you she must have hit her head!” the girl whispered to Jaskier, but she stood up and left the room.

“You know, I’m starting to think she’s right,” Jaskier said. “But you definitely didn’t hit your head with _me_.”

“I was thinking,” she sighed. “About what you told me. And I don’t want my daughter to be afraid of me. Or hate me. And I definitely don’t want her to feel both. So I decided…”

“That you’ll stop being so fucking stern? Good decision,” Jaskier smiled.

“But I’m definitely going to find her a math teacher.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to boast…”

“Of course not. You, boasting? Never.”

“But I’m actually pretty good at math.”

“Well, we’ll discuss it later. For now, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

“And that is? I’m already counting on spending the night here, Countess.”

She sighed.

“Jaskier. You know why I initiated this, don’t you?”

“Yeah. You saw I felt like shit and wanted to help me, as usual.”

“Right. That’s good. I just wanted to make sure.” She walked to the chair Jaskier was sitting on and sat on his lap. “But I don’t think I can do it this time, honey.”

“You can. Of course you can,” he said, forcing a weak smile on his lips. “You must. I need it.”

“My dear, I’ve already pushed you harder than ever before, and to no avail. You mouth off, yes, but there’s no heart in it. And after seeing you on stage last week, I think I understand why.”

Jaskier bit his lower lip and did his very best to avoid her gaze.

“Is it that obvious?” he muttered.

“That you’re madly in love with this Geralt? No, don’t worry. You’re very good at hiding it. But I know you, Jaskier. I know what it looked like when you were madly in love with _me_. I bet there’s already at least one great ballad about his amazing ass.”

“Two, actually.”

“Fuck. Head over heels, then.”

“You don’t say.”

She sighed and ran her fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry, Jaskier. I can’t help you with this.”

“You can,” he whispered. “Please. I just need you to… Snap me out of it. That’s all.”

“What you need is to go and talk to him.”

“I can’t.”

“Look, I don’t know who you are or what you did to the Jaskier I know, but Jaskier I know was never afraid of someone not wanting him back.”

“But he’s afraid now. Scared, honestly,” Jaskier said, shaking his head. “We’re in a band together. If I tell him about my feelings and he doesn’t love me back… And of course he won’t. I’m not his type. Have you seen his ex? She’s a literal goddess. What am I? A stupid bard.”

“You’re stupid, that’s for sure,” she nodded. “Oh, Jaskier. You know I only fall in love with women, right?”

“You’ve made that quite clear after the poem about your nether regions.”

“But if I was to fall in love with _one_ man, it would be you.”

“Thanks. That would have made me really excited… seven years ago.”

“There’s no pleasing you, is there?” she smirked. “Right. If you insist on making it hard for yourself, be here tomorrow at two. Emma’s got a ballet class, so we’re gonna have all afternoon.”

His smile was real this time.

“Thank you, Stella.”

“You can thank me tomorrow, after we’re done.”

_ When you arrive, come right in. Go to the bedroom. _

That was what the text said.

That was what Jaskier did.

He was expecting many things when he was opening the bedroom door. Most of them would only fit into Fifty Shades of Grey and Stella would probably explain to him (in great detail) what exactly is wrong with them.

He was expecting almost everything, from an array of whips to an actual torture device.

There was one thing he wouldn’t expect even in his wildest dreams.

“Oh, fuck,” he said, standing in the door. “You have _got_ to be kidding me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm... Sorry about the cliffhanger?


	10. May Valdo Marx, The Troubadour Of Cidaris…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, my dears? Firstly, I'd like to apologize for making you wait so long for the chapter after leaving you with that horrible cliffhanger - yes, it was for work-related reasons again (aka my boss is still being a royal bitch). But hey, it's a good thing that this fic is kind of like my weekend therapy, right? :D (Well, this and cardio kickboxing workouts on Youtube.)  
> Secondly, I would very much like to apologize for what Jaskier actually finds in Stella's bedroom. (No, that's a lie. I'm not even remotely sorry for that.)  
> And thirdly, well... Enjoy the chapter?  
> And thank you all so much for all the comments, as always. :)

“You… _You…_ ” Jaskier wheezed out as the main door closed behind Stella’s… visitor.

“Yes?” she smiled, raising an eyebrow at him.

“How _could you_?!” he yelled.

“I did what I did because–”

“It’s not about what you did, it’s about _who_ you did!”

“Jaskier…”

“Him!”

“Darling...”

“ _Him_!”

“Honey...”

“Fucking _Valdo Marx_!”

“I clearly remember you asking me to snap you out of your misery.”

“Well, consider me fucking snapped!” Jaskier yelled, spreading his arms wide before pausing. “Wait.”

“Snapped?” she grinned. “Good. Now that you’re back to your usual self, why don’t you go and tell that Geralt of yours how you really feel?”

“You did it on purpose, you bitch, didn’t you? You knew pissing me off like this would help. And you made sure I’d never touch you again!”

“Now you’re only being dramatic, Jaskier.”

“Oh, no, I’m not. I will never be able to fuck you again. I’ll always remember seeing you with your legs on his shoulders. God. I need to a drink. Yuck.”

“You need to talk to Geralt.”

“And that face of his, Jesus Christ, that’s the face he makes right before coming, and I really hoped I would never see it again!”

“Oh, Jaskier,” she chuckled.

“I’m disgusted. Absolutely disgusted.”

“Well, sorry, honey. But I needed to shock you a little.”

“ _A little_?!”

“Jaskier. Stop this. Go and talk to Geralt. Please?”

He bit his lower lip and sighed.

“It’s not that simple, Stella.”

“Go talk to Geralt, or I will call that bitch back, tie you to a chair and make you _watch_ as I fuck him.”

“You would never.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, Jesus. Fine. Fine, I’ll do it! Happy now?”

“Yes,” Stella smiled.

Jaskier grunted.

“But I’m still mad! Fucking Valdo Marx, Jesus Christ...”

Jaskier grinned when Vesemir opened the door.

“Vesemir! Hello! Is Geralt here already?”

“Sure. You’re the only ones, but there’s still ten minutes or so before we… Yeah, come in, whatever.”

Jaskier had already squeezed through around him and walked into the living room.

“Geralt! So nice to see you! How are you doing, I hear you ask…”

Geralt chuckled.

“I didn’t.”

“Well, the Countess de Stael, my muse and beauty of this world, has left me. Again. Rather coldly and unexpectedly, I might add. I fear I shall die a brokenhearted man.”

“Looking at you, I don’t know whether I should say I’m sorry or congratulate you.”

“Definitely say you’re sorry,” Jaskier smirked, sitting down next to Geralt. “Right, where are we?”

“There’s still like ten minutes–” Vesemir tried, but he was ignored by both men.

“We’re by a lake near some shithole of a town. Apparently, I’ve heard a djinn can be found in its waters and I’m trying to catch it.”

“What, like a genie?” Jaskier frowned. “Why would you need a genie?”

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed, taking a dice in his hand. “I can’t sleep. I want him to help me with that.”

Jaskier tilted his head, and sure. When he focused on it, there were indeed dark circles underneath Geralt’s eyes, showing clearly on his noticeably paler-than-usual skin.

“Doesn’t that sound, I don’t know… a bit dangerous? I mean, it could make you sleep like… forever. Genies are a bunch of bitches, you see?” he smirked. “I’m sure there are other ways of making oneself fall asleep. Have you tried masturbating?”

“Just tell me when I catch the djinn, Ves,” Geralt said to Vesemir, rolling the dice. A one. Not surprising.

“Wait. You should let Jaskier–“

“I’m fine, I’m just chatting with him while he’s making an idiot out of himself,” Jaskier grinned. “You know, Geralt, the Countess de Stael once said to me–”

“Did you sing to her before she left?” Geralt grunted.

“I did, actually, and she...” Jaskier blinked, his face falling a little. “Why, what are you implying?”

Geralt grunted in response and avoided Jaskier’s gaze.

“Oh. Oooooh. We are _so_ having this conversation!” Jaskier said. “Come on, Geralt. Tell me. Be honest. How’s my singing?”

Geralt threw the dice again.

“It’s like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling,” he growled.

Jaskier’s eyes went wide, as did his mouth. He stuttered, trying to find the words worthy of describing his outrage. In the end, he pointed an accusing finger at Geralt.

“ _You..._ ” he exclaimed. “ _Need a NAP_! I mean, are you trying to hurt my feelings, Geralt?! It’s–“

“Sorry to disturb your conversation, guys,” Vesemir intervened, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “But Geralt, you’ve just fished out an old amphora with a wizard’s seal on its lid.”

“Fucking finally,” Geralt sighed.

“I grab the bottle!” Jaskier announced.

“What? Why?” Geralt blinked. “I mean, I don’t let go of it, obviously.”

Jaskier grabbed a jar of sweets that Vesemir always kept on the table during their D&D sessions.

“See that?” the bard said. “Imagine that’s the djinn. And _I’ve got it_!”

“Jaskier,” Geralt snarled, grabbing the lid.

“Take it back about my fillingless pie,” Jaskier said, holding the jar with both his hands like his life depended on it. “Take it back, and then you can have your djinny-djinn-djinn!”

“Let go,” Geralt grunted.

“No! No, let go, you horse’s… arse!” Jaskier said, tugging.

The lid slid out, causing the sweets to fly in all directions. Geralt and Jaskier paused, both looking sheepishly at Vesemir.

“Now,” the man smirked, “that is the perfect representation of what happened. Jaskier, you’re holding the bottle. Geralt, you’re holding the lid.”

“And… what next?” Jaskier asked.

“Nothing.”

“A bit of an anticlimax,” Jaskier scowled.

“Fine, as you wish. The sky darkens and wind starts to blow. Then–“

“Wait, wait, that’s fine. I can work with this,” Jaskier said. “Djinn, I have freed thee, and as of this day, I am thy lord! Firstly, may Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris, be struck down with apoplexy and die. Secondly, the Countess de Stael must welcome me back with glee, open arms and _very_ little clothing. Thirdly–”

“Jaskier! Stop,” Geralt growled. “There are only three wishes.”

“Oh, come on, you always say you want nothing from life, so how was I supposed to know you waned three wishes _all to yourself_?!”

“I just want some damn peace!” Geralt yelled.

“Well here’s your peace!” Jaskier shouted, slamming the jar on the table so hard it was a miracle it didn’t crack.

Vesemir cleared his throat.

“As much as I appreciate you getting in character so much,” he said, “could you do it without destroying my property? No, that was a rhetorical question, Jaskier. The wind intensifies. Jaskier clutches his neck before he doubles over in pain, spitting blood.”

“What?!” Jaskier yelled.

“That’s for the jar,” Vesemir smirked.

“Geralt!” Jaskier said, immediately turning to the white-haired man by his side.

“Oh, dear lord,” Geralt sighed. “Fine. I suppose I’m gonna get the bard to a healer.”

The doorbell rang.

“See. I told you we should wait,” Vesemir sighed, getting up.

When he was out of the room, Jaskier turned to Geralt. “You didn’t mean it about my singing, did you? Please say that you didn’t!”

“What do you think?” Geralt smiled, cocking his eyebrow.

“That you must like my singing, otherwise you’d never let me join the band.”

“Well, we were desperate for a new singer when… Yen!” he breathed out.

Jaskier saw Geralt’s eyes go wide and turned his head. There was a dark-haired woman standing in the doorway. A woman Jaskier had only seen once, but would still recognize everywhere.

Yennefer.

He felt his heart sink. What was she doing here? Was something wrong with Ciri? But no, she didn’t look worried. She was smiling. And Geralt was staring at her like she was a goddess.

“Mind if I join?” she asked.

“The healer tells you that the spell might cause permanent damage, and the bard could even die,” Vesemir announced.

“Fuck. Geralt?!” Jaskier said, snapping his head to Geralt.

The witcher rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, we won’t let that happen.”

“That sounded very, very heartfelt,” Yennefer smiled.

“So, you’re inside the mayor’s house now,” Vesemir said.

“I’d like to mention there’s an orgy going on,” Yennefer smiled.

“Of course there is,” Jaskier grunted, watching Geralt’s expression of a lovesick puppy.

“Geralt,” Vesemir sighed. “What do you do now? And before you say anything, I’d like to remind you that there’s still a bard on your shoulder...”

“ _Why_?!” Jaskier groaned. “Why would you take a _bath_ with him? I need to be saved!”

“Didn’t you promise to pay me anything, Geralt?” Yennefer said, arching her eyebrow at Geralt.

“I did,” he nodded. “I’m sure you’ll survive for a little longer, Jask.”

“Well,” Vesemir cleared his throat. “About that...”

“Look, I’m so sorry, but I’ve just remembered I left my… cat… on the… stove...”

“A brilliant excuse, Jask.”

“Oh, shut up. What use are you in your cell?”

“And who put me there?!”

“Well, not me, that’s for sure, I was unconscious!”

“Technically, so was I.”

“Yes. And may I mention that one needs to be a real _bitch_ to–”

“Boys,” Vesemir sighed. “Back to the story, please.”

“The wind blows and the guard’s head explodes.”

“Ugh,” Jaskier winced. “Jeez, Vesemir. Not in front of my sandwich!”

“Wait,” Geralt blinked. “So I’m the one with the wishes?”

“ _He’s_ the one with the wishes?” Yennefer gaped.

“Oh, dear,” Jaskier muttered, taking a bite of his sandwich. “What a shocker.”

“I fuck her.”

Yennefer smiled. Vesemir and Jaskier both turned to Geralt with a shocked expression on their faces.

“Excuse me?” Jaskier said.

“I fuck her,” Geralt repeated.

Vesemir grunted.

“Of course you fucking do...”

The door closed behind Yennefer… and Geralt.

Jaskier sighed, downing his glass of wine in a single gulp. This wasn’t how he had planned for the evening to go. He came here with an intention to tell Geralt about his feelings. Not in front of Vesemir, of course. He wanted to ask Geralt for a ride home, and then he… Well, he wanted to offer him another kind of ride in exchange.

He was glad he didn’t get to do it, though. Because it was clear Geralt was still in love with his ex, and Jaskier didn’t want to be a fucking interchange station for him.

“Hey,” Vesemir said, softly, filling Jaskier’s glass. “Don’t worry about it. They’re always like that.”

“Are they? Poor you, then, having to suffer this every bloody time they both played.”

“Yes. Poor me,” Vesemir nodded, watching Jaskier down half of the glass. “You know, I hope he comes to his senses one day and see how bad they’re for each other, but… Hey. Slow down, kid. This isn’t a fucking lemonade.”

“I’m aware,” Jaskier nodded. “You know I’m in love with him, don’t you?”

“I didn’t, but this evening made it pretty damn obvious,” Vesemir sighed. “No. No more wine for you.”

“But Vesemir!”

“And I’m calling Renfri to come and pick you up.”

“There’s no need. I can walk. I’m not drunk. Not even tipsy.”

“Good. I’m still calling Renfri.”

“No, you’re most definitely–”

“I most definitely am,” Vesemir said. “Now sit. Your. Fucking. Ass. Down.”

Jaskier grunted, but obliged.

Maybe he was a teeny, tiny bit tipsy.

“So,” Renfri smirked, looking at Jaskier in the passenger seat. “Would you like to go home, or would you rather go to my place and get smashed?”

“Vesemir told you, didn’t he? Ass.”

“Vesemir told me Geralt left with Yennefer,” Renfri said. “He called already, by the way. Geralt, I mean. Said he won’t be coming home tonight, and if I could take care of Ciri. Fucking son of a bitch.”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” Jaskier muttered.

“To answer your question–”

“Wasn’t a question.”

“Vesemir didn’t tell me anything, just to come and pick you up. It only clicked when I saw how miserable you were. And really, Jaskier, of all the people on this planet...”

“I know. I’m a fucking idiot,” Jaskier groaned. “He will never stop loving her, will he?”

“It’s unlikely,” Renfri nodded. “So, what will it be? Your place or mine?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of Ciri?”

“Oh, come on. She’s old enough to take care of herself. Besides, she’s supposed to be in bed in an hour or so, anyway.”

“Fine. Your place, then,” Jaskier nodded. “If you don’t mind, I mean.”

“Of course not,” she smiled. “Ciri’s gonna be delighted. And Roach even more so.”

“Oh, right. You live with Geralt.”

“Yeah, but don’t worry. He won’t be back until morning.”

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Jaskier closed his eyes and let Renfri drive.

The light was on in the living room when Geralt entered the house at midnight. He frowned and went to check, only to find Ciri sitting in front of the TV, eating popcorn.

“Cirilla,” he said and the girl jumped. Roach, who was sleeping next to her, jumped down from the couch and went to greet him, whining happily.

“Dad!” Ciri exclaimed. “What are you doing home?”

“What are _you_ doing out of bed?” he replied, stroking the dog’s head. “Where’s Renfri?”

“At hers. With Jaskier,” Ciri peeped.

“Jaskier?” Geralt blinked. “And what is Jaskier doing here?”

“Don’t know. She said she needs to go pick him up, they came here and said they need to get drunk, grabbed a bottle of vodka and went upstairs.”

“I’m gonna kill her,” Geralt growled. “No, I’m gonna kill them both. You. Go to bed. Now.”

“But dad,” she whined. “The movie’s ending in–”

“Now, Cirilla.”

“Right,” she muttered, turning off the TV. “I’m sorry, dad.”

Geralt sighed.

“I’m not mad at you, princess. I’m mad at Renfri for not taking care of you. Just… Go to sleep, please. Good night, sweetie.”

“Night, dad. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Geralt said, absentmindedly.

He waited until he heard the door of Ciri’s bedroom close. Then he made his way to Renfri’s apartment upstairs.

It was a mess, but then again, Renfri wasn’t the tidiest person on the planet. It was always kind of a mess. There was an empty vodka bottle on the kitchen counter, and two glasses.

Geralt took a deep breath, steeled himself and opened the bedroom door. He didn’t even know why he was doing it. He just needed to see.

Both Renfri and Jaskier were fast asleep on the bed, each on their own side of it – but Geralt could clearly see that Jaskier was naked – at least his chest was – and Renfri was only wearing her bra – and maybe panties. Just maybe.

Now, he knew of course, that just because someone sees two naked people asleep in bed together, it doesn’t necessarily mean sex was involved… But he knew Jaskier.

He closed the door and made to leave, but then he noticed a piece of paper next to the empty bottle and the glasses. He made his way to it, took it in his hand and read it. It was a bit of lyrics, hastily scribbled by Jaskier's hand.

_I’m weak, love, and I am wanting_

_If this is the path I must trudge_

_I’ll welcome my sentence_

_Give to you my penance_

~~_Gorgeous garroter_ ~~

~~_Lovely garroter_ ~~

~~_My sweet garroter_ ~~

_(God, please, help, I’ve got no idea what to put in here. Is the metaphor too obvious?)_

He gulped and placed the piece of paper back on the table. Then he turned and left the apartment.

For some reason, he wished he hadn’t gone with Yennefer.


	11. Just A Little Murder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears! Sorry for the slight delay with this chapter (and for it being a little shorter than usual), I was battling a slight case of a lack of inspiration (as in "I know what I want to write, I just don't have any idea HOW and everthing I write seems stupid). But I think it's getting better now, and I'm really excited to write the next chapter! :)  
> In the meantime, thank you all for your lovely comments, and I'm really, really sorry for what you're about to read now. :D

“Rise and shine, assholes!”

Jaskier cracked his eye open and moaned. Rays of sunshine were streaming into the room through the open window –  even though Jaskier was pretty sure the window had been closed the night before. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that  the  light was hurting his eyes, and his head felt like  it was  in a vice, and his mouth was  as  parched as Sahara itself…

And then he realized who opened the window.

Who called them assholes.

And who was still standing by the door, hands crossed over his chest.

“Fuck,” Jaskier muttered. “Hi, Geralt.”

“Get up. Both of you. Right fucking now,” Geralt growled, and then he turned and left the room.

“Shit,” Renfri muttered next to Jaskier. “I guess she’s thrown him out again.”

“What do you mean _again_?”

“Well, she tends to do that. She fucks him, then tells him to leave. She doesn’t let him stay at her place.”

“Wait. You said he won’t be coming home until morning!”

“I hoped he wouldn’t,” she shrugged, slowly sitting up. “Oh, hell. Just to make sure – we didn’t sleep together, did we?”

“Oh, we most definitely did _sleep_ together...”

“Jaskier.”

“We absolutely didn’t fuck,” he smiled at her. “Although you showed me your tits. When you were changing.”

“Yeah, I remember that. You told me Geralt’s are bigger.”

“They _are_.”

“Well… Yeah, they are,” she chuckled. “But still. _Rude_.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Your Highness, for hurting your feelings and belittling your lovely breasts.”

“Prick.”

“No, I’m sure I only belittled your breasts, definitely not your–”

Renfri took a pillow and pressed it against Jaskier’s face.

“Who would have guessed?” she sighed. “We’re gonna have to find a new singer, after all. The last one died from alcohol poisoning, such a tragedy…”

The door opened once again. Geralt was back, looking even angrier than before.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” he growled.

“Oh, nothing. Just a little murder,” Renfri shrugged.

Jaskier moaned from beneath the pillow.

Geralt walked to the bed and snatched the pillow out of Renfri’s hand.

“Get. The. Fuck. Up,” he snarled and left again.

“Oh, damn,” Renfri muttered. “It must have been worse than usual.”

“Should we… Get up?” Jaskier asked, licking his lips. “Because, you know, I’m not sure I can do that without throwing up.”

“Do you want to piss him off even more?”

“No way. He’s already scary.”

“Then do as he says.”

“Yes, mom.”

There was a feast waiting for them on the kitchen counter. Right next to, Jaskier noticed with horror, the lyrics his drunken state had made him write the night before.

“Belgian fries, tartar sauce, chocolate cake,” Geralt announced. “All tried and tested hangover remedies. Also, two Monsters. A normal one for Jaskier, and the fancy disgusting red one for Renfri.”

“You ruined a perfectly good joke,” Jaskier muttered. “About a monster in your pants.”

“Shut up. Sit down. And eat.”

Jaskier took a glance at Renfri, who nodded. They both sat down on the bar stools in front of the counter, which, it turned out, was also used as a kitchen table.  To be fair, when he came here the night before, he wasn’t in a state that would allow him to notice the absence of a proper table.

“So,” Geralt said, just as Jaskier put the first few fries into his mouth. “About yesterday.”

“We didn’t,” Jaskier muttered. “What you think we did.”

“I don’t care. You’re adults, you’re free to fuck whoever you wish.”

“But we really–”

“I said I don’t care,” Geralt growled. “But Renfri, I asked you to take care of my daughter. You promised me you would. And then I came home and found her watching TV at _midnight_ , and you passed out upstairs–”

“I wasn’t passed out!” Renfri protested.

“Oh, no, Ciri was watching TV?!” Jaskier gaped. “God forbid, that’s _horrible_. Fucking shit, Geralt, from your tone I would have thought she threw a party, beer and strippers included…”

“Does this seem like a joke to you? What if something happened to her while you were getting drunk here?”

“You mean while you were fucking your bitch of an ex?” Renfri smirked.

“Don’t call her that!”

“Come on, Geralt, Ciri’s _fourteen._ She can take care of herself.”

“ _You_ were supposed to take care of her!”

“I did. I made her dinner, we had a little chat about why her dad isn’t at home, then I made her popcorn and went to pick up Jaskier.”

“You _told her…_ ”

“There was no need. She guessed it as soon as I said you’d be late. Was I supposed to lie to her? Tell her you went to bang Jaskier instead? I should have. It would have made her a lot happier.”

“Renfri…”

“Don’t you fucking _Renfri_ me. _You_ were the one who made your daughter sad, not me. Did you know she _hates it_ when you fuck Yennefer? She says you’re always grumpy after an evening with her, and she’s fucking right. She says she loves her mother, but hates how sad she always makes you. Did you ever think about that, or do you only care about getting your dick wet, Geralt?”

“I don’t have to listen to this, you know?” Geralt grunted.

“Yeah, I know. The door’s over there, don’t let it hit you on the way out.”

“Look–”

“Hey. Guys. Come on,” Jaskier said. “I think this isn’t the right time for any of this. Renfri, you’re hungover and angry. Geralt, you’re… Well, angry. I think it would be better to talk about all of this a little later, when you’re both calm and sober. Right?”

“Right,” Renfri muttered.

“Good. Geralt?”

“I’d like to talk about it now.”

“Geralt, _please_ ,” Jaskier said, fluttering his eyelashes.

Geralt sighed.

“Fine. Later.”

Jaskier smiled and put a few more fries into his mouth.

Crisis avoided. For now.

He should have expected the call, but he didn’t.

It came just as he was closing the door of his flat behind himself, planning to take a long shower, go to bed and try to sleep off his horrible headache.

He fished the phone out of his pocket, took one look at the screen and swore.

But he answered.

“Hey,” he said. He didn’t have the energy to be cheery.

“So it didn’t work,” Stella’s voice said from the other end of the line.

“I kinda didn’t have time to do anything before he decided to leave with his ex.”

“Oh, Jaskier. I’m so sorry,” she sighed. “Are you okay?”

“Absolutely. Got smashed with a friend, wrote some cheesy lyrics about my poor broken heart, decided I’d fucking _get_ the stupid White Wolf even if it’s the last thing I do...”

“I’m sorry, what was the last one?”

“I’m gonna get him, Stella,” Jaskier smiled. “His ex is a bitch. Well, maybe not a bitch, but I just think she’s horrible for him, and he’s horrible for her.”

“So you’re gonna be the hero who saves them from each other?”

“Basically.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“Oh, love. I’m gonna use every single weapon at my disposal. He won’t even know what hit him.”

She chuckled.

“And that’s the Jaskier I know. Honey, I thought I’d lost you for good. And it only took a single fuck with–”

“If you say his name, Stella, I’ll never speak a word with you again, _ever_.”

“Well, I’m glad I managed to snap you back to your old self.”

“So am I. Thank you, hon.”

“You’re welcome, darling. And hey, about the lessons for my mathematically challenged offspring…”

“Would tomorrow at six work for you? I’m afraid I’ve got a… musically challenged student at half past four, but I should make it to your place by six.”

“Six is good. Will you have dinner with us?”

“What is the mother of the year ordering? Chinese? Pizza?”

“Whatever you wish, Jaskier,” she laughed.

“Great. At six, then. See you, Stella.”

Geralt was supposed to be working on several possible projects. A golden engagement ring. A silver necklace representing the World Tree. At least six iron roses (he  _hated_ making iron roses, but there was always someone who desperately needed them). A dagger hilt with a wolf on it (he was actually pretty excited to make that one, just not today).

But instead, he found himself furiously banging a piece of steel with a hammer  to make a sword that wasn’t due until next  _month_ .

It wasn’t like he had a  _problem_ with what happened between Renfri and Jaskier. (Both of them assured him that absolutely nothing happened, of course, but Geralt wasn’t born yesterday. They only said it because they saw how mad he was.) No, they were two adults. If they wanted to fuck, well, good for them.

“Fucking good for them,” Geralt growled, bringing his hammer down.

It wasn’t Geralt’s place to decide whether Jaskier was good enough for Renfri. Or Renfri for Jaskier. It  was their  problem .

And if they were drunk when they  decided to fuck ,  that was  also  their problem, and theirs alone. And if they realize d that it was a mistake…

Geralt growled.

He didn’t understand. He never had any problem with Renfri sleeping with… Well, anyone. Her body, her  life . She was a friend, nothing more. And when she brought someone he didn’t like… Well, he told her, but he never yelled at her the way he did in the morning.

He sighed.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t  _like_ Jaskier. He liked him. A lot. Jaskier was a great friend. A real sweetheart. Funny and cute, with a wonderful smile, an amazing voice and such  _ferocity…_

The hammer fell from Geralt’s hand and rattled on the floor.

“Oh, no,” he whispered. “No, no, no...”

Because he was slowly coming to a terrible realization.

He didn’t mind that  _Renfri_ slept with Jaskier. He minded that Renfri slept with  _Jaskier_ . As in… That  _Jaskier_ slept with Renfri.

He gritted his teeth, taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

But it was true.

Jaskier was a great friend.

And somehow, Geralt had begun to want him to become  _more_ .

And  that was stupid.

“Stupid,” he repeated to himself.

Because he chose Yennefer yesterday, as he always did. He chose her, then he came home and found Jaskier in bed with Renfri.

And he hated himself for choosing  _her_ . If he didn’t… If he  _didn’t…_

There was a knock on the door, and without waiting for him to invite her in, Ciri stepped into the room.

“Hey, dad. You okay?”

He blinked and shook his head to clear it. Only then was he able to focus on her.

“Sure,” he sighed. “Sorry. Just got… lost in my thoughts, that’s all.”

“Something interesting?” she asked and picked up the hammer.

“Nothing. Boring stuff,” he smiled at her. “Thank you, princess.”

“You’re welcome. Could I stay and watch you work?”

“Can’t see why not,” he said. “Just don’t get in my way. You know the drill.”

He was glad for the distraction, actually.

Anything that would stop those crazy thoughts…

Several hours later, when Ciri had long since left (because even though she definitely found his job interesting, her interest had its limits, and watching him torture a piece of metal until he deemed it worthy to become a sword was bound to become old very quickly), there came another knock.

Well, more of a bang. It wasn’t Geralt’s fault that making swords was too damn noisy.

“Yes?” Geralt called.

The door opened to reveal Renfri with Geralt’s favorite coffee mug and a cupcake.

“Hi,” she smiled. “I just thought you might, you know… Need a snack?”

“Where did we get cupcakes?” he frowned.

“Ciri was bored. She wanted to make some.”

“And she asked you for help? _You_?”

“No. She asked me to stand by and keep watch in case she accidentally burns down the kitchen.”

“Oh. And… I’m kinda afraid to ask, but how’s the kitchen?”

“You didn’t hear any sirens, did you?”

“I’m talking about _mess_ , Renfri.”

“Yeah. Well…” she shrugged. “Don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to. Coffee and cupcake? I swear it’s perfectly edible.”

“Is this supposed to be an apology for this morning?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow.

“No. Because I have nothing to apologize for.”

“And you think I do?”

“You said it, not me.”

Geralt sighed.

“Fine. I’m sorry. I might have been a little… disagreeable?”

“You were being a bitch, Geralt.”

“Whatever,” he muttered.

Renfri placed the mug and the cupcake on the worktable by the door.

“I swear I didn’t sleep with him,” she said. “And you should really think about why does it piss you off so much that I might have.”

Geralt grunted. Renfri rolled her eyes and left him alone.

The problem was… he had thought about it. A lot.  Ever since Ciri left.

He just didn’t like the very obvious answer.

That he was falling – and hard – for the adorable, cheery,  talented, funny, affectionate,  _beautiful_ guy who, even though he seemingly loved everyone (well, except for Valdo Marx), could never love Geralt back.

Not the way Geralt wanted him to.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. “Fucking _fuck me_.”

No, he couldn’t do this. Couldn’t let himself fall.

Not with Jaskier.

His divorce with Yennefer nearly destroyed the band.  He refused to risk something like that happening again by having an affair with Jaskier.

He  _refused_ .

He washed his hands, picked up his phone and did the only thing that seemed reasonable.

He called Yennefer.

If anyone could help him forget about the bard, it would be her.

And if she couldn’t, well…

Then he was going to find out just how much self-restraint he  possessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, have I mentioned that I just LOVE mutual pining?


	12. Never With A Bassist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my darlings! It's me with another new chapter. I'll be brief, because I should have gone to bed like two hours ago, but I really wanted to finish and post this chapter. So here it is, and I hope you'll like it!  
> As always, thank you very much for your comments. They always make my day! :) (And I especially need that now, because I managed to fuck up my back and I can't stay home from work, so my days are really shitty and filled with pain. Honestly, this fic is one of the few things that still keep me going...)

“Geralt.”

He pulled his T-shirt over his head and pretended he didn’t hear her inquisitive voice.

“Come on. Tell me. What happened?”

He shook his head.

Yennefer sat up on the bed and sighed.

“ _Geralt_.”

“Nothing,” he said. “Just a little argument with Renfri.”

“About?”

“Me sleeping with you and making my daughter sad, actually,” he smirked.

“What did you do to my kid?” she frowned.

“Nothing. She just doesn’t like it when I sleep with you.”

“Why?”

He put on his leather jacket and turned to leave.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does if it makes Ciri upset.”

“Don’t worry. She will only be upset if she finds out about this. And she won’t. I sneaked out when she was already asleep. She won’t even know I was gone, let alone that I was with you.”

“I hope she won’t. For your own good.”

“Whatever,” he muttered. “I’ll call you again?”

She shrugged.

“If you want.”

Jaskier came to the next rehearsal wearing a brand new pair of tight, high-waisted black jeans and a dark purple vest with a sleeveless black T-shirt underneath, showing off his arms  _and_ his ass at the same time.

Geralt did his very best to keep a calm, stoic face, even though his heart was fluttering like a hummingbird after an extra dose of caffeine.

No, there was no denying it now. He felt something for Jaskier.

And then the stupid…  _bard_ had the audacity to turn around, so Geralt had the perfect view of his ass, and then he  _turned his head,_ and  then he looked at Geralt with those blue eyes and pursed his lips, and  _ohdeargodhe’swearinglipstickagain…_

“Geralt,” Jaskier purred. “As a bisexual to a bisexual, tell me – do they make my ass look good?”

Geralt smirked, trying  _very_ hard to  only sound amused and definitely not horny.

“Yeah, they’re not bad.”

“Not bad?” Jaskier said, whirling around to face Geralt properly. “ _Not bad_?!”

“I’m more of a leather pants sort of guy,” Geralt shrugged. “And honestly, not _that_ much into asses.”

_Technically_ it was not a lie.

“Oh, yeah? What are you into, then?”

_ Depends _ , Geralt thought.

Women, he liked curvy and beautiful and, well, womanly. Men, on the other hand… Oh, yes. He liked his men tall, preferably not skinny, with broad shoulders, a slim waist, a little bit of body hair…

Now  _ that _ was a lie. He’d never had any preferences regarding body hair. Until now.

He’d also never been into lipstick on men, especially on tall, broad-shouldered, slim-waisted and kind of hairy ones. But he was into it now. Oh, he  _ absolutely _ was into it now.

_ Basically, I’m into you _ , he thought.  _ Fuck me. Literally. _

“As if I’m gonna tell you,” he smirked. “I’d rather not be subject to your charms.”

“Everyone is subject to my charms, dear heart,” Jaskier winked, grabbing his guitar, and sat on the couch. “So, arms, then?”

_ Shoulders. Arms. Hands. Fingers. Long, guitar-playing fingers. _

“Mostly just cocks.”

“Really?” Lambert frowned. “Not exactly charming, are they?”

“And kind of impractical as a… tool of seducement,” Jaskier said. “You can’t exactly let it swing around to show it off.”

“You can always send a dick pic,” Lambert suggested. “Though… Not even I have fallen so low.”

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve send a few, but strictly on request,” Jaskier nodded solemnly. “Hey, Geralt?”

“No, I _don’t_ want you to send me a dick pic, Jaskier,” Geralt moaned.

“And me?” Lambert grinned. “I’ve always wanted to send one!”

“God, please, no.”

“Jaskier?” Lambert said, turning to the bard.

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Damn.”

“You can always send it to me, Lambert,” Renfri suggested.

“But you’ve already seen my dick!”

“So have I,” Geralt said. “Not very impressive, I might add.”

“Guys. _Guys_ ,” Eskel sighed. “You know I absolutely don’t have a problem with your sexuality, but could you tone it down _just a little_? This is getting a bit uncomfortable.”

“What, are you imagining Jaskier swinging his cock around to attract someone?” Lambert laughed.

“I am _now_! For fuck’s sake… Geralt, could you make him shut up?”

“You’re right. That’s enough,” Geralt muttered, just as Jaskier started to play his guitar with a perfectly innocent look on his face. “Let’s get back to work.”

“Jesus, Geralt, what’s _gotten_ into you?” Yennefer sighed, just as he was getting out of bed.

“Nothing. Everything’s fine,” he said, unconvincingly.

“If I’ve done something that made you this mad, tell me. I’d like to do it again.”

“Not everything has to be about you, Yen.”

“Jesus. That was a _joke_ , Geralt.”

“Oh.”

She frowned and propped herself up on her elbow.

“Geralt?”

“I’ll call you again,” he said. “If you don’t mind.”

“You know, if you need to talk…”

“I don’t.”

“Yeah. Whatever you say.”

“What do you mean you just _know_ people’s kinks?!” Lambert was yelling as Geralt entered their rehearsal room the next time, three days later.

“I mean what I said. I just… do,” Jaskier frowned. “Hey, Geralt.”

“So it’s like a superpower or what?” Eskel asked. “Yeah, hi, Geralt.”

“Maybe. Maybe I’m just… observant,” Jaskier shrugged.

“Can you tell if they’re a top or a bottom?” Lambert asked.

“Can’t everyone?” Jaskier laughed. “I mean, _that_ is usually pretty obvious, isn’t it? Renfri is a total top. So is Eskel. He is a heterosexual man, though, so that’s not hard to guess. You, darling, are a bottom.”

“Hey. I’m a heterosexual man, too!”

“Yeah, I’ve got my doubts about that, actually,” Jaskier chuckled. “But don’t worry, heteros can always get pegged.”

“Are you suggesting I might be gay?”

“No, don’t worry. But a _teeny bit_ bi...”

“I’m not,” Lambert snorted. “And what about Geralt?”

“Physically, like me, a perfect switch,” Jaskier grinned. “Mentally, though–”

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ , Jask” Geralt growled. “And focus. The competition is in two weeks, and do I have to remind you we need to _win_?”

“Yeah. No. Sorry,” Jaskier sighed. “You heard the boss, guys. To work.”

“Geralt, I feel like we really need to talk about this.”

“We don’t, Yennefer.”

“Not _Yen_? This is worse than I thought.”

“Whatever,” he muttered.

“Please. You’re clearly not okay–”

“Don’t worry. Ciri won’t be affected by it.”

“It’s not _her_ I’m worried about, love.”

“And don’t call me love. You’ve made it pretty clear that I’m not.”

J askier answered his phone absentmindedly, without even looking at the name of the caller first.

“Yes?” he said.

“So the fucker’s sleeping with that bitch again.”

Jaskier frowned and hoped the old lady by his side  hadn’t heard . He took a look at the phone. Oh, of course.

“Lambert,” he sighed. “I’m busy. I’ll call you later.”

“Busy? Which unfortunate fan did you–”

He ended the call and smiled apologetically at his student.

“Sorry, darling. That was just a friend. He’s a bit… himself.”

“So who’s sleeping with whom?” she asked, arching her eyebrow.

_ Damn. So she heard _ .

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he waved his hand. “Fingers on the keys, honey. We’ll go from the top, alright?”

The lesson couldn’t be over fast enough. He actually felt kind of guilty about it, because he really loved this student of his – a lady, who, at the age of eighty, decided that it was the right time to finally learn to play the piano. Just like that. She could barely see the sheet,  but she was still one of the most enthusiastic students he’d ever had.

So it wasn’t very nice of him to be counting minutes until the lesson was over,  but he couldn’t help it. (And she knew. Oh, dear lord, she  _knew_ . Because she was smiling like the frigging Mona Lisa for the whole time, and even wished him good luck when he was leaving. Holy shit, was his anxiety to get together with Geralt starting to  project on his forehead, or what?)

“What do you mean he’s sleeping with her again?!” he snapped at Lambert the moment the other man answered his phone.

“I asked him if he wanted to go for a beer tonight,” Lambert said. “He basically told me to go fuck myself with my own cock.”

Jaskier blinked.

“That’s all?”

“Oh, my sweet, innocent darling,” Lambert sighed. “He’s always like that when he starts sleeping with her. Angry, snappy, easily annoyed, acts like he hates all of us. It’s better now, because at least she’s not in the band anymore, thank god. But trust me. He’s fucking her again.”

_ G ood for him _ , Jaskier wanted to say, but didn’t. Because he knew it wasn’t true. It was very, very bad for Geralt, obviously.

“And what do you want to do about it?” he smirked instead. “He’s an adult. You can’t exactly tell him to stop.”

“I definitely can. But he probably won’t listen.”

“You don’t say.”

“Fine, what is _your_ suggestion, then?”

Jaskier sighed, barely avoiding a collision with a teenage girl and her Starbucks coffee.

“I don’t know. You said you wanted to go for a beer tonight?”

“Yeah?”

“You could always go with me. I mean… I’ll go with you, if you want.”

“Jaskier, I know you said you had your doubts about my sexuality, but even if I _was–_ ”

“That’s not what I meant. Jesus Christ. You? Never. I don’t fuck bassists.”

“Very kind of you, thanks. So what _did_ you mean you worthless piece of shit?”

“That if we want to convince him to stop seeing her, we need a plan. Or something.”

“Oh, right. Good. Should I call Renfri? She’s gonna kill us if we don’t ask her to be a part of this.”

“Whatever,” Jaskier sighed. “So where and when?”

It was a small bar. One that Geralt, as far as Lambert and Renfri knew, wasn’t frequenting.

Honestly, Jaskier felt like a secret agent  when he sat down on the bar stool next to his two co-conspirators. He’d even considered putting on his sunglasses, but that would probably have been a bit too much.

It was a good plan to meet here.

A plan that went to shit before Jaskier’s gin and tonic even had a chance to arrive.

“Jaskier!” an enthusiastic voice behind them said. “What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

Renfri and Lambert rolled their eyes, but Jaskier turned around eagerly, because he recognized the voice. Its owner was a small, lean man,  whose blond hair and innocent blue eyes perfectly camouflaged the fact that he was, not very deep down, a little shit.

“The same as you, I expect.”

“Hunting for a gorgeous guy to fuck?” the man grinned. “Yeah, not surprising, I’ll give you that.”

“Oh. Not the same as you, then,” Jaskier laughed.

“Now _that_ is surprising. Shocking, even. Are you mortally ill or something? Or, gods forbid, _in a relationship_?”

“Who the hell is that?” Lambert muttered.

“Guys, allow me to introduce my friend Aiden,” Jaskier chuckled. “Aiden, this is Lambert, and this lovely young lady is Renfri.”

“If you ever call me _lovely_ or a _lady_ again, Jaskier, I’m gonna cut your throat with a broken beer bottle,” Renfri warned him casually.

“Oh, yes. From Kaer Morhen. Right,” Aiden nodded. “Nice to meet you, I guess, even though we’re technically mortal enemies or something.”

“Aiden is the bassist of Dandelions,” Jaskier explained.

“So… One of those fuckers who kicked you out?” Lambert frowned.

“No, no. He’s the only _good_ guy in the band. The fuckers are Mike and Dave. And Valdo, of course, but he’s always been a fucker.”

“I wasn’t even there when they did it,” Aiden said. “They didn’t bother to tell me to come. They knew why, I’d never let them do it to Jaskier. The next day, I come to the rehearsal and there is that pompous cunt, just casually parading around. Honestly, I considered quitting right there and then, but then I thought… What the hell, let’s have some fun first. Man, I hate that prick.”

“Fun?” Renfri frowned.

“Let’s say the great Valdo Marx is convinced that I think he’s the greatest thing that ever happened not only to our band, but to mankind itself. His ego has grown four times its original size since he joined the band. I can’t wait for the competition so I can finally see him crash and burn.”

“That’s my Aiden,” Jaskier laughed, clapping his shoulder.

“Your Aiden?” Lambert snorted. “But on the other hand, not surprising.”

“What did I tell you, Lambert? _Never_ with a bassist!”

“He’s serious about that,” Aiden confirmed solemnly. “Trust me. I tried to get into his pants, but they were like an impregnable fortress.”

“ _Jaskier’s_ pants?” Lambert laughed. “Impregnable? I’m surprised he doesn’t have to wear a belt _and_ suspenders to keep them up!”

“True. He’s dropping them so often it’s pointless to even put them back on afterwards. But if you’re a bassist… He could superglue them to his crotch and you’d have better chance to get them off him.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Renfri said so only Jaskier would here. “What do they put in the drinks here? I feel like I’m seeing _two_ Lamberts instead of one.”

“That’s Aiden for you,” Jaskier shrugged, smiling, while Aiden kept on developing his superglue theory.

“Now I finally understand how did you get used to Lambert so quickly.”

“Lots and lots of practice,” Jaskier nodded.

“I think I’m gonna need something stronger than beer for this. How about some plum brandy?”

“Absolutely. Keep them coming.”

“The problem with Yennefer…” Renfri muttered. “The problem with Yennefer is…”

“That she’s a bitch. Yup,” Lambert nodded.

“Cheers to that!” Jaskier grinned and raised his glass.

“No! The problem with Yennefer is… that she keeps coming back like a motherfucking boomerang. Well, Geraltfucking boomerang. And he can’t resist. And she ends up breaking his heart, again and again. Trust me. She’s _always_ bad news.”

“ _Bitch_ is way faster to say,” Aiden smirked. “Jeez, Jaskier, when did you _ever_ let a spouse stop you from getting the person you wanted?”

“Remember that time I had to jump out of the second floor window?”

“You _what_?!” Renfri yelped.

“Oh, classics,” Aiden laughed. “You were lucky there was that huge pile of snow underneath it.”

“Not really, because I was only wearing my underwear.”

“Jesus Christ. How are you still _alive_?” Lambert blinked.

“That is a mystery,” Aiden nodded. “But back to this Geralt of yours.”

“Yeah, the problem is,” Jaskier sighed, “that I don’t want to just _sleep_ with him, you know. I want it all. I want _romance_.”

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” Aiden sighed.

“Romance? Seriously? Fuck,” Lambert commented. “I knew something was going on with you two, but _love_? Wow.”

“Oh, fuck,” Jaskier swore. “Can’t you forget I said that? I don’t need _another_ person knowing how desperate I am!”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

“I’m not worried about that. I just don’t want you to know!”

“Too bad. I already do.”

A iden laughed and rose to his feet.

“Well, this was fun,” he said. “Nice to meet you two, guys. Nice seeing you, Jaskier. But I’m afraid I gotta go.”

“What, so soon?” Jaskier frowned.

“Some of us need to get up early and go to work, professor.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier muttered. “I actually have a class in the morning. Hell.”

“Poor students. So, anybody wants to get a ride with me?” Aiden asked. “No? Thought so. Fine. Good night, then, guys, and we definitely need to do this again some time. See you!”

As he turned and started to walk away, Lambert downed the rest of his scotch, bit his lower lip and got to his feet, too.

“Hey, Aiden, wait a minute...”

Jaskier and Renfri watched him catch  up with the other bassist and then promptly leave with him, without eve n saying goodbye to them.

Jaskier chuckled.

“And there goes Lambert’s straightness. Let’s have one last drink in her memory.”

“Wait. You seriously think they’re gonna…” Renfri blinked before shrugging. “Who am I kidding? Of course they’re gonna.”

They clinked their glasses together and drank.

Later that night, Geralt once again cursed the fact that he allowed Ciri to make him an Instagram account. (“You need it, Dad, for your work and so on. Everybody’s got one. You don’t want to be an old, grumpy grandpa, do you?”)

But Geralt  _ felt _ old and grumpy every time he opened the damn thing. Like today. He only opened it because there was a storm coming and the constant flashes of lightning behind the window made it hard for him to fall asleep.

No, that was a lie. He hadn’t slept properly in weeks, storm or not.

So, tired of browsing Facebook and playing the same games he played every night, he decided to check  the Instagram,  only to find a photo posted by Jaskier,  just a few minutes ago. It seemed Geralt wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep.

It was another piece of paper with  the bard’s handwriting  (a little messier than usual, suggesting he wasn’t exactly sober) , just as the one Geralt had found that one night in Renfri’s flat.

_ A storm breaking on the horizon _

_ Of longing and heartache and lust _

_ She's always bad news _

_ It's always lose, lose _

_ So tell me love, tell me love _

_ How is that just? _

And then the description, which simply said:  _ When you want them but they’re still in love with their toxic ex _ .

Geralt cursed under his breath.

He had no idea who Jaskier was talking about. As far as he knew, Renfri didn’t have a toxic ex she could be in love with.

Maybe… Maybe it was about that Countess of his?

Maybe. Geralt couldn’t possibly know, as he did his best _not_ to listen every time Jaskier talked about her.

He cursed again, a little louder.

He definitely wasn’t going to sleep tonight, was he?


	13. Fuck Me Sideways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my darlings, it's me with another brand new chapter of your (hopefully) beloved fic! First things first - I want to thank you all so much for your lovely comments you left underneath the last chapter, because they really helped me get through the week. You're the best! :)  
> I really hope you enjoy this new chapter and don't hate me too much by the end of it. The next one is, hopefully, coming soon.  
> (And by the way - yes, there's a bit of self-projection going on with one of Geralt's favourite bands, but please, bear with me. I'm barely coping with the fact that I was supposed to be seeing them at the Masters of Rock festival in less than a week from now, and I won't, thanks to the stupid virus cancelling it. In fact, I was supposed to be leaving for the festival tomorrow, my fifteenth time in a row. And I won't. For the first time since fucking 2006. I understand it's necessary and everything, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. (Great. I've made myself cry now. Perfect.)  
> Oh, but I absolutely do recommend the band, and both the songs I've mentioned in the chapter!

They had another rehearsal the next day. Geralt insisted, claiming that they needed to practice more before the competition.

“Fifteen minutes, Geralt, we’ve got _fifteen minutes_ ,” Lambert protested when Geralt called him about it. “That’s three songs, and I could already play them in my fucking sleep!”

“Yes, but Jaskier and I still have some work to do.”

“Have a private session with Jaskier, then. He’ll be absolutely thrilled, trust me.”

“You know where you can shove that irony?”

“That actually wasn’t–”

“At seven, Lambert.”

“You know I fucking hate you sometimes?”

“If it’s only sometimes, I guess I’ll live.”

“Depends on how much you piss me off.”

“You’re such a dick, Lambert.”

“I bet Jaskier would help me get rid of the body.”

“At seven. Don’t be late, or the body we’re gonna need to get rid of will be yours.”

And so they spent the evening practicing… and bickering. And, in Geralt’s case, grunting and groaning and growling.

He really wasn’t in the mood for stupid jokes and silly comments. He had barely slept at night, thinking about Jaskier’s stupid Instagram post, and Jaskier in general. He was still trying to convince himself to somehow… stop falling for the man.  To no avail, of course, but  that didn’t make him stop trying.

He was grumpy and he knew it. He got even grumpier, though, when he saw the way Jaskier  kept grinning at Renfri. And at Lambert, too. Lambert, of all people. He even winked at him a few times!

And no, Geralt wasn’t  getting jealous. No. Absolutely not.

Not even when they finished and everyone started packing their things, at which point Lambert turned to Jaskier and muttered to him, so low that Geralt only heard him because he happened to stand close: “We need to talk.”

“Sure thing,” Jaskier smiled. “Wanna give me a ride home?”

“Whatever,” Lambert mumbled. “Get your skinny ass moving.”

And then they left. Together.

Right. It was possible that Geralt was a  _ little _ bit jealous…

“So,” Jaskier said when Lambert parked his car in front of Jaskier’s apartment building. “I noticed that we’re here and you haven’t said a word, even though you claimed you wanted to talk to me.”

“I really didn’t want to be talking about this while driving,” Lambert said.

“You’re not driving anymore,” Jaskier commented.

“Fine. Jesus. You’re so annoying,” Lambert sighed. “So, as you’ve probably noticed, my heterosexuality was put to a test yesterday.”

“Didn’t pass, did it?”

“Understatement of the fucking century,” Lambert muttered and closed his eyes. “Failed in the most spectacular way possible. I mean… We didn’t exactly _fuck_ , he only… jerked me off, but there was a _lot_ of kissing involved, and I… Shit, I wanted to fuck, wanted it so bad. But he said no. Why did he say no?!”

“You were drunk,” Jaskier said. “Aiden doesn’t fuck hets when they’re drunk. Neither do I. You need to be sober to make that decision.”

“But not to be jerked off?”

“You can still laugh that off. Say you were both drunk and horny and, well, shit happens. When you’ve had another man’s cock up your ass… It’s much harder to claim it was just a bit of fun.”

“Speaking from personal experience?”

“Oh, no. I knew I was bi long before my first guy,” Jaskier laughed. “But I know a few guys who had a bit of a crisis because they thought they were straight and ended up getting on all fours for a friend.”

“I’m having a crisis!”

“I’m sure you’re gonna be fine, Lambert.”

“Am I? Because I have literally no idea what to do now. I don’t know what I _want_ to do.”

“Nah. That’s a lie.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. You want to go back to Aiden and spread your legs for him.”

“I don’t! Why… Why do you even think I’m a bottom, anyway?”

“No idea. I just know.”

“And Aiden?”

“Honey, Aiden is a total top. He’s willing to switch to keep things spicy, but most of the time, he’ll just want to fuck you into the mattress. And I’m warning you, if you want to say something like _but he’s shorter and thinner than I am_...”

“I don’t,” Lambert sighed. “I think I really, really want him to fuck me into the mattress.”

“That’s good, then, isn’t it?” Jaskier smiled. “Relax, Lambert. No one’s saying you need to be the next big love story. Just… have fun. See where it goes. Experiment, for fuck’s sake.”

“Yeah, I just…” Lambert closed his eyes. “I’m not gay. I’m not even bisexual.”

“Looks to me like you might be, though. Come on. Think. You’ve never met a man you thought was hot as hell? Never felt like _oh, gods above, I wanna climb him like a fucking tree_?”

“I don’t know. I mean… Yeah, there were a few good-looking guys. Like… Geralt. But _everyone_ wants to fuck Geralt. He’s just got this… aura. Even straight guys are thirsty for Geralt. And yeah, there’s been a few others, but… Fuck. I just never noticed I was secretly bi, right?”

“It happens more often than you’d think,” Jaskier grinned. “But anyway. Welcome to the queer club, Lamby!”

“Don’t ever call me _Lamby_ again if you wanna live to see the day when Geralt finally falls into your bed.”

“Oh, but I like it. Lamby. Has a nice ring to it.”

“I mean it, Jaskier. I’ll kill you.”

“Promises, promises,” Jaskier grinned. “Will you call Aiden and ask him out?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll ask if he wants to come over and… see where it goes.”

“Good boy,” Jaskier winked. “Thanks for the ride, by the way. Bye, Lamby.”

He jumped out of the car and slammed the door before Lambert could say anything. But when he turned around, he saw the bassist giving him the finger.

Jaskier only smiled and waved.

It was a few days later when Geralt opened the door of his house to find Yennefer standing outside.

“Yen,” he observed. “You’re early.”

“The traffic wasn’t an utter horror for once,” she said. “Can I come in? It’s hot as hell.”

“Sure,” he muttered. “I don’t know if Ciri’s ready yet, though.”

“It’s fine, I’ll wait. Oh, lord, this is much better. And what about you? Don’t you have a gig today?”

“I do, but–”

“You realize you’re not ready _at all_ , don’t you?”

“It will take me literally five minutes to get dressed.”

“You’d better start, then.”

“I’m afraid you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore, Yen,” he smirked.

“Dad!” Ciri yelled from the living room door. “Why aren’t you dressed already?!”

“She really is your daughter,” Geralt chuckled. “Adoptive or not. Yes, Ciri, I’m going, see? Please don’t look at me like that. And don’t leave until I say goodbye to you, alright?”

“Never, dad. Oh, and hi, mom! What are you doing here so early?”

“She’s _your_ daughter, too, obviously,” Yennefer smirked at Geralt. “Adoptive or not.”

“Yeah, I know,” he smiled. “She has to get her _good_ traits somewhere, right?”

“Whatever,” Yennefer sighed, rolling her eyes. “Princess, I’m gonna get a glass of water, alright? I’m thirsty as hell.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ciri said. “Otherwise dad will _never_ go and get dressed.”

They left Geralt standing in the hallway and went to the kitchen together. As Yennefer was filling a glass with water, Ciri carefully closed the door.

“Right,” the girl said. “So there’s something horribly wrong with dad, and I think it’s you.”

“Damn,” Yennefer muttered, taking a sip of the water. “He promised you wouldn’t notice.”

“That he’s sneaking out almost every night and he’s so horribly _sad_ all the time, even when he’s smiling? I kind of did.”

Yennefer nodded. She should have seen this coming. Ciri was a clever girl, and incredibly observant. When Yennefer and Geralt’s marriage went to hell, she realized way before the two of them did. She wasn’t even shocked when they told her they were getting a divorce. She seemed  _ happy _ about it.

“While I agree that there is something very wrong with your father,” she said slowly, “I don’t really think it’s me. We’re not _together_ again, Ciri. It’s just… you know.”

“I know. Yuck.”

“Sorry, love.”

“By the way, I knew you weren’t together. I just… I just wish you could stop being together _like that_.”

“I’m trying, sweetie. Your father doesn’t make it particularly easy, though.”

“Can’t you just say no?”

Yennefer sighed and tried to hide behind her glass.

She  _ could _ say no to Geralt, of course. The problem was, she didn’t really want to. Well, her traitorous body didn’t want to.

But her daughter was looking at her with such sadness in her eyes  that Yennefer couldn’t care less about what her stupid body wants or needs.

“I will,” she said. “If what we’re doing hurts you, I promise I will. Okay?”

“Thanks, mum,” Ciri smiled. “But why do you think you’re not the reason dad’s been acting all weird lately?”

“Because he’s weird around me, too. That’s… unusual,” she shrugged. “I think there must be something else. Someone else, probably. Someone he tries very bad to forget about.”

“But that’s stupid,” Ciri frowned. “He hasn’t met anyone new.”

“Maybe he has, honey. Someone you don’t know about. It might be a fan, or one of his customers….”

“No. It must be someone he spends lots of time with, if he managed to fall in _love_.”

“Who says he’s in love?”

The door opened suddenly and Geralt barged in , his face dark.

“Sweetie, I gotta go,” he told Ciri. “Lambert called, his car won’t start, and he was supposed to pick up Jaskier. Eskel’s already on his way to the gig with Ves and our instruments, so it’s up to me and Renfri to pick up Lambert _and_ Jask. Fucking Jaskier, seriously, _who_ doesn’t own a car and refuses to drive in this day and age?!”

“Dad,” Ciri said calmly.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Have a nice time with your mother. Don’t stay up late. I’ll text you when I get home. Bye, darling.”

“Bye, dad,” she smiled. “Enjoy the gig!”

He was already on his way out of the room.

“Did you notice he was wearing his best black leather pants? I mean the absolutely _tightest_ ones with the lacing on the sides?” Yennefer whispered, looking out of the kitchen window to see Geralt when he leaves the house. “And the ripped black T-shirt? And… Oh, no, he’s taking his beloved leather jacket with him. He never wears it to gigs, he’s too afraid something might happen to it, he loves the damn thing like a child, but he looks so gorgeous in it…”

“Fuck,” Ciri muttered.

“Language,” Yennefer said automatically, but then her eyes went wide when the realization struck her. “Oh, _fuck_.”

She looked at Ciri, who was watching her with a bewildered grin on her face.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” the girl said. “It’s _Jaskier_.”

Geralt falling in love with the silly, cheerful bard? It was stupid. No, it was crazy.

It made perfect sense.

“Yes,” Yennefer sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid it is.”

They went to pick up Lambert first, and then Jaskier.

To be honest, Geralt was glad. He was kind of afraid they’d tell him to pick them both up at Jaskier’s  place . And Geralt wasn’t sure he could handle that little hint of the two of them fucking.

The mere thought was making him sick,  but he was nearly sure his suspicion s were correct .  Lambert had been weird lately. Nervous, fidgety, constantly lost in his thoughts, but also somehow… nicer than usual? And especially nice to Jaskier.

It didn’t matter that Lambert claimed he was straight. He wouldn’t be the first guy in the world who realized he wasn’t _that_ straight in his thirties. Geralt himself hadn’t realized until he was twenty-five.

And it wouldn’t be weird that it was  _ Jaskier _ who awakened those feelings. He sure as hell awakened many feelings in Geralt.

So why, pray tell, was Geralt sitting here, wearing the best outfit he could think of? Why did he even bother with those impossibly tight leather pants…

“Oh, fuck me sideways,” Lambert muttered, snapping Geralt out of his thoughts. “He’s really outdone himself this time.”

Geralt turned his head towards Jaskier’s apartment building  and h is mouth went dry. His heart  was suddenly racing . And those stupid leather pants got even  _ tighter _ in certain places.

Because Jaskier was walking towards them, his lute case in his hand, dressed all in black  and leather, his pants perhaps even tighter than Geralt’s, his  jacket undone (it always seemed  to Geralt  that it was physically impossible for Jaskier to keep his jackets zipped or buttoned up), the hem of his loose T-shirt tucked into his pants…  His hair was ruffled and he wasn’t wearing eyeliner today, and it was clear why – it would steal the attention from his beautiful red lips.

Oh, yes. Red. Because Jaskier chose to complement his all-black outfit with a red lipstick. No, not  _ a _ red lipstick,  _ the _ red lipstick. The seductress red. The femme fatale red.  The  _ epitome _ of red.

It was perfect.

Geralt wanted to kiss it away.

Jaskier came to the car, completely unaware of the effects his looks had on Geralt, and opened the  back door . He didn’t get in, though. He bent down and smiled apologetically at Renfri, who was sitting in the passenger seat.

“Hi, guys. Renfri, honey, could I have a small request? I kind of need you to let me sit in the front seat, because if I don’t, I’m afraid I’ll end up vomiting all over my lovely pants, which would be a _terrible_ shame.”

“You could have just said _I’m sick when I sit in the back, please let me sit in the front_ , you shit,” Lambert smirked.

“Lamby. So good to see you back to your usual bitchy self, I was starting to get worried,” Jaskier laughed. “Renfri, my love?”

“You mean I gotta spend the ride next to _Lambert_? Hell no.”

“Renfri,” Geralt sighed. “We kind of need a singer who doesn’t have puke all over his clothes. Besides, it _would_ be a terrible shame to ruin those pants.”

“Thank you!” Jaskier said. “Renfri, come on, please? I know he’s annoying as hell, but hey, for me?”

“Ugh, fine,” Renfri groaned and moved to get out of the car. “But we also kinda need a bassist with his fingers unbroken, you know?”

“Nonsense. He’s just a bassist. Nobody would notice,” Jaskier laughed.

“Bitch,” Lambert grunted. “I’ll remember it the next time you want something from me.”

Jaskier sat in the front seat and immediately pushed it all the way back.

“You were saying?” he said, his beautiful red lips spread into a wide grin. “I’m so sorry, darling, but you see, my legs are really long, I need some space to stretch them out.”

“And where I’m supposed to put mine? Behind my fucking ears?!”

“Why not? You’d be surprised, but practicing yoga can be really awesome for your sex life.”

“Really? And how would putting my legs behind my ears benefit my sex life, exactly?”

“Oh, well, you know…”

“Enough,” Geralt grunted. “Jesus Christ, can you two just shut up for _five fucking minutes_?!”

“So Yennefer didn’t spread her legs for you last night?” Lambert asked. “Or she did? Does she need to practice some yoga?”

“I’m warning you, Lambert…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Renfri sighed. “Lambert, you shut the fuck up. Geralt, you drive. Jaskier, you… Just stop making everything into an innuendo, please?”

“I’ll try, but I can’t guarantee anything,” Jaskier smiled. “Geralt, dear heart, you heard Renfri. Drive. You don’t want to be late, do you?”

“If we _are_ late, it’s your fault, and yours only,” Geralt said. “And why the hell didn’t you put the lute in the trunk?!”

“Oh. Lute,” Jaskier blinked, as if he was just realizing that there was a giant lute case sitting in his lap. “Right. In that case, don’t drive, because I’m going to put it there and as you said, you need a singer!”

“Do we, though?” Geralt sighed when Jaskier climbed out of the car again. “God, I want Yennefer back. Ouch!”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Renfri warned, slapping him on the head again. “Bad Geralt.”

G eralt sighed and closed his eyes. This was going to be a very long night.

“ _To pull on my horn as it rises in the morn_...”

“Yeah, yeah, not _that_ song,” Geralt chuckled into his microphone. “By the way, if anyone’s interested in pulling on Jaskier’s horn, tough luck, because I’m his ride home and I refuse to wait until he’s done getting his dick wet.”

“Hey!” Jaskier protested.

“But I’ll gladly leave him here for you if you promise to drive him home afterwards. A word of warning, though, he tends to be sick in the car and he hates Amon Amarth, so I absolutely do _not_ recommend him as a passenger.”

“I don’t _hate_ Amon Amarth!” Jaskier said as several people in the audience booed loudly. “I just said I’d like to listen to something cheerful.”

“They _are_ cheerful!”

“ _Death in Fire_? Really?!”

“Well, not _that one_ , I’ll give you that…”

“So which one? _As Loke Falls_? I mean…” Jaskier took a deep breath and growled: “ _Blood comes gushing from the wound_ _a_ _s Loke's head falls tumbling,_ _r_ _olling to the burning ground!_ I don’t know about you, Geralt, but I don’t think that’s very cheerful!”

Geralt was staring at Jaskier with his mouth agape.

The growl was far from perfect, but holy fucking shit, it was a growl. How, just  _how…_

“Where the fuck did you learn _that_?!” Geralt croaked.

“I’m a man of many talents, dear heart,” Jaskier grinned.

“I can see that. But it seems that guessing the correct medieval-inspired song is not one of them.”

“No, I think it is, actually,” Jaskier said. “Let me try one more time. What about this? _When a humble bard…_ ”

Geralt was glad when he finally closed the door of his bedroom behind himself.

Luckily, Jaskier apparently wasn’t in the mood to seduce anyone, because when they were done packing their things, he got in the car without a single word of protest.

Still, it was a tiresome journey back home. Renfri fell asleep within five minutes and Lambert kept staring  at his phone, so it was Jaskier who had to make sure Geralt wouldn’t fall asleep, too.  And so h e kept chatting,  laughing, singing… He even asked Geralt to teach him to growl properly. (A minute later, Renfri woke up, cursing them both to hell and back and telling them to  _shut the fuck up._ They didn’t.)

Geralt sighed, leaning his back against the door.

He could still see Jaskier’s perfect red lips, those gorgeous leather pants, his fingers playing the lute…

He imagined those lips pressing into his. The clever fingers exploring his body. Jaskier’s husky voice telling him…

What?

_ Look at you, dear heart. So beautiful. Gorgeous. Mine _ .

“Mine,” Geralt whispered.

He growled, pushing away from the door. His pants were getting tighter again.

“Fucking shit,” he muttered, already taking off his jacket. “If only you knew what you’re _doing_ to me, Jaskier…”

Jaskier groaned into his pillow as his hand sped up.

The ride home was horrible.  _ Horrible _ .

To spend the whole time looking at Geralt’s profile, his long white hair, his gorgeous eyes, the tiny, unguarded  _ smile… _

Torture. It was torture.

“Geralt,” he moaned. “Oh, yes, Geralt, dear heart, _yesss…_ ”

He h adn’t even tried to find someone to fuck after the gig. He knew there was no one who could give him what he wanted.

A strong, muscular body underneath his. A deep voice moaning praises. White hair, amber eyes, Geralt, Geralt…

“ _Geralt_!”


	14. Hashtag Geraskier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears, it's me with a new chapter again. Now, if I've learned something from writing this one, it's "never write while you're drunk and sad and crying about sitting at home instead of rocking to Judas Priest right now". So a word of warning... get ready for this chapter being kind of a rollercoaster. But it's gonna get better! Well, probably. I hope.  
> As always, thank you very much for all your lovely comments!

“I gotta say, Jaskier’s lipstick makes me uncomfortable,” Renfri read out loud. “I mean, I’m a woman and I could never pull it off, but he just waltzes on stage in it and he’s _perfect_.”

“Oh, that’s only like a fifteenth comment about the lipstick,” Eskel rolled his eyes. “One more, and I’m going to officially forbid the damn thing.”

“Honestly, it makes me uncomfortable, too,” Renfri read out. “Because before Jaskier joined the band, I was convinced I’m a heterosexual man, but I’m not so sure now.”

“Good news, bitch, you’ve got another!” Lambert laughed.

“Oh, yes, Jaskier just loves turning poor straights,” Renfri grinned. “Right, buttercup?”

“Sometimes,” Jaskier admitted with a smile. “And I sure as hell enjoy _confusing_ them.”

“How do you even turn a straight guy gay?” Eskel asked. “Seriously.”

“You don’t,” Jaskier shrugged.

“No, _seriously_ ,” Eskel said. “Take Lambert here. How would you make him be gay?”

“I wouldn’t. I’d just show him he wasn’t as straight as he thought. But to him, it would _seem_ like I turned him. Right, Lamby?”

“Jaskier, you couldn’t turn me gay if you were dancing naked on the table with a fucking ribbon tied around your cock.”

“Damn. I was _just_ about to do that.”

“Hey, I’ve got a comment that’s not about your lipstick!” Renfri announced. “It’s about your pants instead. And Geralt’s pants. And I must say I agree with it, sweetheart, you’re never gonna have children if you keep wearing them _this tight_...”

“Good. I’d be a terrible father,” Jaskier laughed.

“Hey, what’s this?” Lambert said, looking over Renfri’s shoulder. “I know this is gonna sound weird as hell, but I just think The Bard and The Wolf would make such an awesome couple.”

“What?!” Geralt blinked.

“And another,” Lambert continued. “Girl, I know what you mean, I know I shouldn’t but I definitely ship it. Hashtag _Geraskier_.”

“Wow,” Eskel chuckled while both Geralt and Jaskier looked at Lambert with utter horror in their eyes.

“Yeah, wow,” Lambert muttered. “Fucking shit, you two, control yourselves, we don’t have _that_ many fans, we can’t afford to risk they’re gonna start self-combusting while looking at you being all cute.”

“I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about, Lambert,” Geralt growled. “Nobody’s being _cute_ here.”

“Then what do you call _this_?” the bassist asked, turning his phone to show it to Geralt.

“Lambert!” Jaskier growled when he, too, took a look at the tiny screen.

They  _ were _ cute, there was no denying it. The picture showed  Geralt and Jaskier right after  _ Toss a Coin _ . Jaskier remembered it clearly. The song was coming to an end when Geralt suddenly grabbed him around the shoulders and Jaskier nearly forgot how to  both sing and pla y . And when the song  _ did _ end, Jaskier turned his head and found Geralt looking at him. Their eyes met. It would have been a perfect moment to kiss, if Jaskier thought Geralt was even  _ slightly _ interested. But no. It was only a cute, friendly moment between two singers.

Right?

_ Right _ .

“So what?” Geralt said. “I remember I held _you_ around the waist like ten minutes before this.”

“Oh, yeah, but you never look at me like _that_ , you know?” Lambert smirked, turning his phone back.

“I’m just _looking at him_. Fuck’s sake.”

“Whatever,” Lambert grinned. His phone beeped. He took a look at the screen and his eyes went wide. “Oh, fucking hell.”

“What?” Eskel blinked and turned to look, but Lambert pressed his phone into his own chest.

“Nothing!” he said way too fast for it to _not_ be conspicuous. “It’s deeply personal. Nothing for your eyes. Jesus Christ.”

“So… a message from a lovely lady?” Renfri arched her eyebrows.

“You could say that, yeah. Probably,” he nodded. “Right, guys, gotta go.”

“You can’t go! We’re not done yet!” Eskel protested.

“Yeah, we fucking are. Jaskier’s lipstick yesterday was lovely, his pants way too tight, everyone’s thirsty either for his dick _or_ his ass, which also looked great yesterday, by the way, we were damn good, we’re gonna rock this competition… Oh, and has anyone mentioned Jaskier’s _growl_ yet? Careful, Geralt, we might decide we don’t really need you anymore. Except we do. To look cute next to Jaskier. Did I forget something? Well, fuck it. Nice seeing you, bitches, have a nice day, bye!”

Geralt blinked when Lambert  left immediately after his monologue, not waiting for any kind of reaction.

“Did he just tell me my ass looked great?” Jaskier muttered.

“Yup,” Renfri nodded.

“You don’t think there’s something… wrong with him, right?” Eskel frowned. “I mean… He called us bitches, but he’s been acting weird lately…”

“Young love,” Jaskier sighed dramatically. “Well… Young lust.”

“Wait,” Geralt said, narrowing his eyes. “You know who he’s seeing?”

“And if I do?” Jaskier smiled. “Don’t worry, my dearest wolf, Lamby’s not gonna get his poor little heart broken. Oh, hell, what time is it again? Fuck. I gotta go. I’ve got a student in twenty minutes.”

“We’re not–”

“Yeah, Eskel, we are. My lipstick is lovely, my ass is lovely, my cock is lovely and my singing is at least tolerable. It was great, see you next time. No, wait. Geralt, you I’m gonna see at tonight’s D&D, right? Hashtag The Bard and The Wolf.”

A second later, he was out of the door.

“Right. Why do I even bother?” Eskel sighed. “What about you two? Are you going to tell me you’re also leaving?”

“What’s the point of being here?” Geralt muttered, frowning. “I’ve got work to do, I don’t need to waste more time chatting here about the gig.”

“You didn’t seem to mind it five minutes ago,” Eskel said.

“Fuck off, Eskel. No offense.” Geralt’s face was suddenly tired, with a hint of sadness in it. “See you next time. Renfri, you going with me?”

“No, I’m good. I don’t need to be in the house when you start torturing another poor piece of metal.”

“Who says I’m gonna–”

“You’ve only been taking blacksmithing orders lately. The banging is driving me _mad_. And don’t even think about offering to play Arch Enemy to cover the noise, you know the neighbors hate it.”

“Whatever. See you at home, then.”

When he was also gone, Eskel turned his head to Renfri and  lifted an eyebrow.

“So, am I misreading something, or is Jaskier really fucking Lambert?”

Renfri burst out laughing.

“Excuse me, is Jaskier _what_?!”

“Well, it looked like it. He left and Jaskier followed like two minutes later with a shitty explanation…”

“And _Geralt_ followed a minute after Jaskier, are you suggesting they’re having a threesome somewhere?” she snorted.

“No. It’s kinda obvious Geralt left because he’s pissed about the two of them.”

“Why would he be?”

Eskel looked at her with a frown on his face.

“You mean you haven’t noticed he’s in love with Jaskier?”

“He’s in _what_?!” she gaped. “Oh, no. Oh, fuck. Holy shit, those two are such _idiots_!”

“Two?”

Renfri jumped up from her seat and started rummaging in the cabinet where she kept the alcohol.

“You’re gonna need a drink for this, Eskel. And I’m gonna need one, too.”

“For what?”

“Just a little talk,” she said, placing two glasses on a table. “About this whole Geraskier thing.”

“Oh, no. Oh, nonononono,” Jaskier whined when Yennefer entered Vesemir’s living room. “We’re not doing this again. Geralt?”

“I’m in,” Geralt said.

“Jesus fucking…” Jaskier sighed. “Fine, whatever. Vessy, I’ve changed my mind, can I get the wine, please?”

“Nice to see you too, Jaskier,” she smiled at him. “Oh, and this is–”

“Sir Eyck of Denesle, at your service,” a tall, blond man by her side announced with a bow.

“Yeah, Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove,” Jaskier smirked. “A famous bard.”

“And a pain in the ass,” Geralt added.

“Yes, that, too,” Jaskier nodded. “Nice to see another newcomer. By the way, this here is–”

“Yarpen, if we insist on our characters’ names,” a red-haired man sitting next to Jaskier said.

“We don’t. I really am Julian Alfred Pankratz. Only the viscount part is fictional. Thank you, Vessy,” Jaskier grinned, accepting a glass of wine.

“Wow. What did you do to your mom, boy?”

“Got born,” Jaskier sighed. “A _massive_ misdemeanor if you ask her. Then it kinda only went downhill from there.”

“How moving,” Yennefer said, sitting down. “So what’s the scenario tonight?”

“A dragon hunt,” Geralt muttered. “On a monster-infested mountain.”

“So it’s another night of saving your gorgeous bard’s plump ass?” she raised her eyebrow.

“Geralt,” Jaskier muttered, gulping. “She’s plotting something. She just called me _gorgeous_.”

“Nervous?” Yennefer smiled.

“Vesemir, tell her she’s not allowed to kill me!”

“I know, don’t worry. But accidents… _do_ happen,” Yennefer grinned.

“Yen,” Geralt said. “What did I tell you about threatening Jask? And he’s not _my_ bard.”

“If you’re done,” Vesemir growled. “We could start.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Jaskier nodded. “Just a tiny question, though. About this NPC Borch character…”

“Absolutely necessary to the story, and that is why he’s an NPC. Anything else you wanted to know?”

“Had to try,” Jaskier shrugged. “Right, let’s get on with this.”

“Thank you,” Vesemir smirked. “Our story starts in a village of…”

“Jaskier. The crow’s feet are new,” Yennefer said.

“Well, your jokes are…” Jaskier paused, looking for the right insult, when he saw Geralt’s sideways glance. “Old.”

“Is it always like this here?” the redhead asked Vesemir.

“I’m afraid so,” Vesemir nodded.

“Great. I _love_ it.”

“… A cactus if she’s really into it…” Jaskier babbled.

Geralt bent down his head, trying not to laugh. Vesemir whined.

“ _Jaskier_ ,” he said. “Are you aware that you’re trying to charm two _fictional_ NPC characters, right?”

“Hot warrior ladies, yeah, I know,” the bard nodded.

“I’m a hot warrior lady and you’ve never tried to charm _me_ ,” Yennefer commented.

“No, thank you, I like my cock attached to my body, and your cunt might try to bite it off. Right, Geralt?”

“Never tried to bite _mine_ off,” Geralt shrugged.

“Lovely,” Jaskier muttered. “Back to charming the ladies, though. I think they look famished. So I’ll just wander aimlessly into the thicket by the path and retrieve a… uh… tasty afternoon treat.”

“Jaskier, no,” Geralt sighed.

“Jaskier, _yes_ ,” Jaskier grinned.

“Oh, dear, here we go again,” Geralt said, closing his eyes and waiting for the inevitable.

Vesemir chuckled. “As you pick the berries, you notice a pair of big eyes staring at you.”

“Run away, run away. Geralt!” Jaskier yelled. “It’s one of your… friends again.”

“What is it, Ves?” Geralt asked.

“A hirikka,” Vesemir replied. “I believe you know how to deal with those.”

“I know!” Sir Eyck said, reaching for a dice. “I attack it with my sword! For kingdom and glory! Die you monster!”

Geralt hoped the so-called knight would throw a one, but no, of course it had to be a twenty.

“It was just hungry,” Geralt sighed. “If we had given it food, it would’ve just gone away.”

“You can’t know that!” the blond protested.

“He can. He’s a witcher,” Jaskier said.

“And I helped creating the monster part of this world’s lore, thank you very much,” Geralt smirked. “Well, since you’ve undoubtedly cut the poor and extremely _rare_ thing to pieces, what are you gonna do with it now?”

“Knights never waste a kill!” Sir Eyck announced. “So I take it and cook it for dinner.”

“Actually, I really wouldn’t,” Vesemir said.

“Oh, no, let him,” Yarpen laughed, looking at Geralt’s crooked smile. “I bet it’s gonna be fun.”

“Your stomach starts to rumble ominously,” Vesemir told Sir Eyck.

“What?” the blond blinked.

“Means you’re about to shit your pants,” Geralt grinned.

“Oh. Uhm,” the blond said. “So I… guess I get up, saying… I’m afraid I must take my leave. Lady Yennefer, May I escort you to your tent?”

“Will you be joining me?” Yennefer smiled innocently.

“Tick tock,” Vesemir said. “You’ve got about… twenty seconds to get your pants down. And I don’t mean to get your cock sucked.”

“My lady, I would never degrade your honor in such a way!”

Jaskier snorted.

“I hate to break it to you, but that ship has sailed, wrecked _and_ sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Ow,” he added when Geralt punched him halfheartedly in the arm. 

“Ten seconds, my dear sir,” Vesemir grinned.

“You can’t be actually serious. You’re gonna make my character shit his pants in front of my _date_?”

“Shit happens,” Jaskier muttered.

“That’s it. I’m out of here,” the blond said and got to his feet. “Sorry, Yennefer, but this was a really…”

“Shitty date?” Yarpen finished for him when he paused.

“Fuck you. All of you.”

And with that, Sir Eyck took his leave for real.

Yennefer sighed and glared first at Jaskier, then Geralt, and then at Vesemir.

“You really can’t help it, can you?” she asked.

“He deserved it,” Geralt said. “Pretentious asshole. He only came here because he wanted to get under your skirt.”

“So what do we do with the little fucker now he’s left?” Yarpen asked.

“Oh, I know just the thing,” Vesemir laughed.

“Who slits a man’s throat while he’s relieving his bowels?” Jaskier sighed dramatically. “Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“ _Jaskier_ ,” Geralt chuckled.

“Shut up, you know you love me,” Jaskier grinned. “I mean… You love the theatrics.”

“If he doesn’t, I do,” Yarpen said.

“Bards,” Yennefer sighed.

“I’m sorry, Vessy, but didn’t you say this Borch was absolutely _vital_ to the story?” Jaskier said.

“He is.”

“Oh, right. It’s just that you just let him fall into a fucking abyss.”

“Is it _my_ fault that Geralt keeps throwing _ones_?” Vesemir shrugged.

“Yeah, you should make him roll next time he decides to sleep with Yennefer,” Jaskier grinned. “Bet he won’t be even able to get it up.”

“You know what? That’s actually a _really_ good idea, Jaskier…”

“Sounds like something Borch would say, doesn’t it?” Jaskier muttered. “Life is too short. Do what pleases you… while you can.”

“Composing your next song?” Geralt asked.

“No, I’m just… Just trying to work out what pleases me.”

“Guys,” Vesemir sighed. “While I appreciate you getting into character this much… We should probably get on with the story.”

“Right,” Geralt nodded. “I spend the night in Yen’s tent.”

“No, you fucking don’t,” Yennefer said.

“Geralt. What did I tell you about fictional sex with Yennefer?” Vesemir sighed.

“Don’t?” Geralt shrugged.

“Right. Fucking don’t,” Vesemir nodded.

“I think…” Jaskier sighed. “I think we should call it a night. It’s late. I have a class to teach in the morning. Let’s… Let’s continue some other time?”

“That would probably be for the best,” Vesemir said, looking at his watch. “You’re right. It’s late.”

“Do you want a lift home?” Geralt asked Jaskier.

“I’m good, thanks,” Jaskier said, shaking his head. “I’ll just walk. It’s fine. Besides, you’ll want to go with Yennefer, I guess. So just… go. See you next time, I guess.”

He didn’t wait for  any one  to reply. He just grabbed his jacket and left.

“Jaskier!” Renfri said when he finally answered the phone.

“What is it?” he muttered, staring at his glass of gin and tonic.

“We need to talk about Geralt,” she said. “Eskel thinks he’s in love with you. I mean… He thinks _Geralt’s_ in love with you.”

“Well, hate to break it to you, but Eskel’s wrong,” Jaskier said and drank half of the glass in one go.

“He’s _not_. Come on, Jaskier, he knows Geralt, he’s know him for _years…_ ”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jaskier sighed. “Except that when I basically poured my heart out to Geralt tonight during our game, he still chose Yennefer.”

The phone went silent for a few seconds.

“Jaskier…” Renfri finally sighed.

“I give up, honey,” Jaskier murmured. “He loves her. He’s always gonna choose her. I’m just a stupid substitute, waiting for the moment he decides he wants her back in the band.”

“He’s not gonna decide–”

“Maybe not. Maybe yes. Doesn’t hurt to be ready, right? Sorry, honey, I gotta go to bed. Thanks for trying. Bye.”

Geralt opened his eyes when someone knocked on the door of his bedroom.

“Yes?” he said carefully.

“It’s me,” Renfri replied. “Can I come in?”

Geralt groaned, getting up. He walked to the door and opened it slightly. Just a crack. Enough for Renfri to see him glaring at her.

“What?” he growled.

“I know this isn’t the right time. Probably,” she said. “But I need to talk to you about Jaskier.”

“It’s almost _midnight_ , Renfri.”

“As if you were sleeping. I’ve seen the circles under your eyes. Your insomnia again?”

“What about Jaskier?”

“Can I come in?” she repeated.

“If you want to tell me you _did_ sleep with him, you can do it here. If you want to tell me he somehow managed to seduce Lambert, thanks, I’ve noticed.”

“What? He didn’t!” she blinked. “Seriously, you and Eskel are _both_ such idiots if you think Jaskier wants _Lambert_.”

“What does Eskel have to do with this?” Geralt frowned.

“Yeah, see, he noticed that you’re kind of in love with Jaskier, and–”

“Did he? Well, he noticed wrong,” Geralt growled. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Geralt, listen to me. Jaskier–”

“I don’t care. I’m not in love with that pompous idiot. And I don’t ever want to hear a _word_ about this again, you hear me? Good night, Renfri,” Geralt said, closing the door.

“But Geralt…” she tried.

“I said good night, Renfri!”

He walked to his bed and let his body fall on it face-first.

“Idiot,” he muttered to himself. “Fucking _idiot_.”

He was reckless. He was stupid. He let them all see how he felt.

The fucking hug at the gig when he simply couldn’t help himself, when he had to  _touch_ Jaskier, even for a little while. Getting angry when Jaskier left right after Lambert  did .

Oh, fuck.  Did Jaskier notice something?  Was that why he told Geralt to spend the night with Yennefer?

Geralt buried his face in a pillow to  stifle his angry groan.

_Do what pleases you… while you can,_ Jaskier’s voice echoed in his memory.

“You,” Geralt whispered. “You’re what pleases me, you fucking moron. And you’re sleeping with _Lambert_.”

B ut what if he really wasn’t?

What if… there was a chance he might want Geralt?

“Who am I kidding?” he sighed. “He wants _everyone_.”

And that was the problem. Geralt didn’t want to be everyone. He wanted to be the  _ only one _ .

“Jesus fucking _Christ_. That’s it. I’m done. Happy now, Jask? You’ve made me all sappy. You’ve made me _soft_. Fucker.”

He buried his face deeper into the pillow and closed his eyes firmly. He wanted to sleep, and at this point, he didn’t really care if he would fall asleep or fucking suffocate.

He just wanted some damn rest…


	15. I Think I Broke Lambert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my darlings. It's me, bringing you a brand new chapter once again. I'm sorry it took a bit longer than usual, but my job's been a bit hellish lately and I'm tired as hell, so I literally wasn't able to write more than half a page in a day. And I'm afraid the wait for the next chapter is going to be even longer, since I'm leaving for a holiday with my friend this Saturday and I probably won't be able to write there. (Don't worry about me, though. It's just to a little town in the mountains that's literally an hour an a half from my home and we're gonna spend most of our time there hiking or getting drunk. Definitely nothing big.)  
> As always, thank you very much for your lovely comments, they mean a lot to me! :)

Long, sleepless nights were good for something, Geralt decided as he was driving to the last rehearsal, two days before the competition. They helped him come to a decision.

A crazy decision, he knew, but a decision nonetheless.

He was going to try to get Jaskier. No matter how hard it would be.

The bard was going to be his, and his alone.

That’s what he was thinking as they were waiting for  Jaskier to arrive.

Eskel was talking with Lambert, and Renfri was tuning her acoustic guitar when one of the phones on the coffee table beeped.

To be fair, Geralt was sure it was his phone when he was taking it in his hand. It certainly _looked_ like his. He even unlocked it with his gesture.

Too late he realized that he was using the same gesture as Lambert, and that their phones looked almost identical.

Only when he read the text, from a contact named  _ Dandelion _ .

_ Oh, darling,  I wish this rehearsal was over already . I can’t wait to have my cock in you again _ .

Geralt stared at the screen for a few long seconds.

Then he shut down the text app,  locked the phone and placed it back on the table.

So they  _ were _ fucking.

He closed his eyes and bit his lower lip.

Thank god he found out before he could make an idiot out of himself…

“Come on, Geralt, talk to me. I can see there’s something wrong,” Jaskier said some thirty minutes later when Geralt screwed up _Toss A Coin_ for the fifth time in a row.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “I just didn’t sleep well last night. It’s kinda hard to concentrate.”

That was also a lie. He hadn’t slept well for the past few weeks, not just one night.

“Whatever,” Jaskier sighed. “Do you want the lyrics? I have them… somewhere. I hope.”

“No I… I remember them. I’m sorry.”

_ I’m sorry  that I even thought of trying to win your heart. _

“Fine. From the top, then,” Jaskier nodded. “When a humble bard…”

Jaskier sighed, carefully putting his lute  back in its case.

“So, that’s it,” he said. “I guess we won’t be readier than this.”

“Even though some of us might be,” Lambert smirked, eyeing Geralt. “Seriously, dude. Do you even _try_ to get some sleep?”

“I do. Every fucking night,” Geralt muttered. “Fuck off, Lambert.”

“Oh-oh. Don’t tell me. Yennefer again?”

“I’m telling you, back off,” Geralt snarled.

“Stop it,” Jaskier said. “Lambert, shut up. Geralt, you really should get some sleep. You’re horribly irritable and I’m seriously starting to be worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Whatever,” Jaskier said, shaking his head.

“Mind your own fucking business, Jask. Like who you stick your cock into. Or what to wear on stage. Something like that.”

“What _are_ you going to wear, anyway?” Renfri asked before Jaskier could reply. “The blue coat again?”

“Probably,” Jaskier nodded. “I mean… Oh, I thought about going back for that absolutely _gorgeous_ golden jacket but I’m afraid I can’t afford it. It was amazing, but _so_ expensive. Did wonders for my skintone, but the blue coat makes my eyes pop so beautifully… It was a Sophie’s choice, dear heart, honestly.”

“Shame. Gold would look lovely with that red lipstick,” she smiled.

“I’m not gonna wear that one,” Jaskier shook his head. “Too distracting. We need the jury to focus on _us_ and our music, not my lipstick.”

“Wow. You’re really planning to win this, aren’t you?” Eskel laughed.

“Yes. We need it. As a band. We need that record deal. And I need to see the stupid smirk vanish from Valdo’s face.”

“If all you want is to wipe out his smirk, you could just, you know… punch the little shit in the face,” Lambert grinned. “It would be much more enjoyable, too.”

“But it would never wound him as much as losing will. You can’t just punch everyone, sweetie. You need to hit them where it _hurts_.”

“Jesus. Where is the Jaskier who loves everyone he meets?” Eskel laughed.

“I do. Everyone except for that pompous cunt.”

“That’s the spirit,” Lambert nodded. “Until the competition is over, Dandelions are our worst enemies. Valdo. Dave. Mike.”

“Aren’t there like… four of them?” Eskel frowned.

“Yeah. But judging from what Jaskier said about him, the fourth one is alright,” Lambert shrugged. “What was his name again?”

Renfri raised an eyebrow at Jaskier,  who did his best not to chuckle.

“Aiden, dear. It’s Aiden.”

“Oh, right,” Lambert nodded, failing to hide a little smile that crawled onto his face. “Aiden. Yeah. We don’t hate that cunt.”

“I’m sorry, but am I… missing something?” Eskel said. “Wait. Geralt. Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home,” the singer muttered, packing his things. “I’m not in the mood for this, sorry. You’re right. I need to get some sleep. See you at the gig. Except for you, Renfri, obviously. And… Jask, you coming to D&D tomorrow?”

“Not sure. Might need some beauty sleep before our big day,” Jaskier grinned.

“Oh. Right. Let me know if you want a ride to Vesemir’s. See you.”

“Good bye, my dearest wolf,” Jaskier grinned.

I t was a few hours later and Lambert was lying in Aiden’s bed. Sweaty, spent… happy.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered. “You really are something, kitty.”

“If you value your continued existence, Lambs, you’ll never call me _kitty_ again,” Aiden growled.

“I could call you a _pussy_ instead,” he offered. “I mean… Is it offensive to call you a pussy? I’m still learning.”

“I think it’s offensive to call _anyone_ a pussy, sweetheart. Or a cunt. Or a bitch. And you’ve called me all three today.”

“What can I say? I’m an offensive dick.”

“Yeah, you definitely are a _dick_ , Lambs.”

Lambert smiled and ran his fingers through Aiden’s hair.

“But really. If I ever call you anything you hate… Just tell me, okay? I’m not _that_ kind of a dick.”

“I know. Don’t worry. I mean… I’ve known since I told you I was trans and your reaction was _So that means you can choose the size and color of your cock? Cool!_ ”

“Yeah, to be fair, you _did_ catch me by surprise. Sorry I didn’t have a thoughtful speech prepared about how _it’s what’s inside that counts_.”

“Knowing you, you’d probably make a joke about _you_ being inside _me_ the next second.”

“Well…” Lambert shrugged, grinning.

Aiden sighed and pressed a long kiss on Lambert’s lips.

“Thank you.”

“For… what?” Lambert frowned.

“Being you,” Aiden smiled. “You wouldn’t believe how many men change their whole _personality_ the second I tell them. They start to treat me like some goddamned delicate flower. Even when I tell them to fucking stop it. They’re afraid to mention my strap, they’re fucking afraid to mention _anything_ genitalia-related, they start calling it my _nether regions_. Bitch, it’s a cunt, not some eldritch horror hidden in my pants… What the fuck are you laughing about, you asshole?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Lambert giggled. “Just so you know, I’m starting to call it your _nether regions_ , effective immediately.”

“ _Lambert!_ ”

“Something like… My dearest, may my tongue battle the monster in your nether regions?”

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking _impossible_!” Aiden whined, burying his face into Lambert’s chest.

“Thank you, that’s one of my best qualities.”

“Fuck. Remind me again why did I fall in love with you?”

Lambert’s whole body  tensed , making Aiden look up. His eyes went wide  as the realization hit.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispered. “Fucking hell, I didn’t mean to… I swear I didn’t mean to, Lambs.”

Lambert gulped, but he stayed silent.

“Lambs?” Aiden murmured. “Lambs, please… Talk to me?”

Jaskier was sitting on his couch, trying (and failing) to compose the second verse for _Her Sweet Kiss_ when the doorbell rang. He sighed, put aside his guitar and went to open the door.

Aiden was casually leaning against the doorframe, smiling. When Jaskier raised an eyebrow at him, he held up a bottle of white wine.

“I need to confess my sins,” he announced. “I think I broke Lambert.”

“Right,” Jaskier chuckled. “Come in, then.”

“Shall I start with the obligatory _I’m sorry daddy, I’ve been_ _naughty_?”

“I think it’s actually _Forgive me Father for I have sinned_ ,” Jaskier laughed. “But if you really want to do the other one, I’ll give you Stella’s number.”

“I’m too gay for that, I’m afraid. Ugh.”

“Right. Sit down, I’ll get us some glasses. Or maybe… Are we gonna need to get rid of Lambert’s body or not?”

“ _Mentally_ broke him.”

“So that’s a no. Good.” He came back to the living room with two wine glasses and placed them on the coffee table. “What did you do to him?”

“Would you like a list?” Aiden smirked as Jaskier filled their glasses.

Jaskier frowned, finally taking a proper look at Aiden’s face and noticing sadness and worry beneath the cheerful surface.

“Oh, bollocks,” he muttered. “So what happened?”

Aiden sighed and raised his glass.

“I accidentally told him I was in love with him and he ran away,” he announced. “Cheers to the idiot!” He downed his glass before Jaskier managed to collect his thoughts.

“Excuse me, you _what_?!” Jaskier said, staring at him.

“I told him I–”

“You’re in _love_ with him? Fuck, what was I expecting, of course you are. He’s perfect for you!”

“Yeah, well… I know. _But_ he ran away, so… tough luck?”

“You scared him off!” Jaskier said. “Holy shit, Aiden, he’s new! You’re his first guy, you’re trans, it’s a _lot_ to process. I mean, come on, the day after you two met, he was panicking because he wanted to sleep with you, you can’t rush him like this!”

“Wait. He was panicking?” Aiden frowned.

“What did you think? He thought he was straight before he met _you_!”

“I know, but… Hell. I really fucked up, didn’t I? Yeah, I did. But it just… slipped. Not my fault at all. He was being so adorable and so _annoying_ , and I couldn’t help myself, it was out before I knew it!”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Jaskier said, clasping Aiden’s thigh. “He just needs to… process it, that’s all. I hope. You’d make a great couple. Totally dysfunctional, but great.”

“You think?” Aiden grinned.

“Oh, yes. You’re both insufferable assholes, after all. You love your swearwords, you’re annoying, sarcastic… But you have a heart of gold.”

“Stop it. You’re gonna make me blush!”

J askier smiled, refilling Aiden’s glass.

“Would you like me to talk to him? Tell him he’s being an idiot?”

“I… No.” Aiden shook his head and sighed. “You’re right. He needs time. So I’m gonna give him time.”

“I think that’s a good decision. Really.”

“Can I ask you something, Jaskier?” Aiden said, his eyes meeting Jaskier’s.

“Sure. Shoot.”

“What’s the real reason why you never wanted to sleep with me?”

“Uh, okay. This is… unexpected,” Jaskier frowned. “And I don’t really understand the question. I _told_ you–”

“Yeah, never with a bassist. It’s just that… That’s a really stupid excuse, you know? I mean… You can just say it if you don’t like trans guys.”

“What? _Me_?!” Jaskier’s eyes went wide and a tiny chuckle escaped his throat. “Come on, Aiden, you can’t possibly think _that_!”

“Then what? You know we’re both tops and you don’t want to spend your nights battling for dominance?”

“Well… That, too,” Jaskier admitted. “Fuck, _how_ did you get from your undying love for Lambert to _this_?”

“I don’t know. It’s just… It’s been bugging me for a while. I’m sorry. I’m in a shitty mood and… the question just decided to pop out. Forget about it. It’s not important…”

“Valdo used to be a bassist, didn’t you know that?”

It was Aiden’s turn to stare, disbelieving.

“Valdo fucking Marx?”

“Yeah. That’s how we met. We played in a band together. Well, he played, I was their singer, of course. He was pretty good, by the way. And so sweet, funny…”

“Excuse me, are we talking about the same guy? The fucker who slanders you _constantly_ , uses each and every opportunity to provoke you and who’d much rather see you _dead_ than successful? The one who stole your place in Dandelions? _That_ Valdo?”

“I’m actually grateful to him for stealing my place,” Jaskier smiled. “It got me in Kaer Morhen instead of that shitty… Sorry. But _you_ were the only non-shitty part of Dandelions.”

“I know, right?” Aiden laughed.

“And believe it or not, sweetie, Valdo wasn’t always like this. Sometimes… Sometimes I think it was me who made him this way. You know, like that one philosopher once said. _We create our own demons_.”

“I’m pretty sure that was Iron Man, honey.”

“Was it? Wow,” Jaskier blinked. “It’s true, though.”

“Yeah, but not with that cunt,” Aiden smirked. “You didn’t create _that_. You did nothing wrong, Jaskier, you just… broke up with him.”

“You can’t know that.”

“True. So what did you do that made him like this? Didn’t suck him off often enough?”

“Okay, so maybe I didn’t exactly _create_ him…” Jaskier admitted, biting his lip. “Right, he’s an asshole, I get it. But trust me, he didn’t use to be. He used to be a really great guy, and a great musician. Yeah, he always told me I should finally start making _art_ instead of pandering to the masses, but...”

“So he _was_ a bitch, even back then.”

“Well… I guess,” Jaskier sighed. “The point is, he was a bassist. And now… Aiden, honey, I know you’re sweet and a great friend, but the moment I hear the word _bassist_ , something inside me goes _Ugh, nope, never doing that again_. I know it probably sounds crazy…”

“It doesn’t. Trust me. I can’t stand gingers thanks to one asshole, so I get it. Absolutely. No bassists. Noted.”

“Gingers? Really?”

“Long story,” Aiden smirked, raising his (empty, once again) glass. “So what? Are we gonna get drunk to forget about our unrequited love?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve decided to stop drowning my sorrows in alcohol. Sorry,” Jaskier sighed.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s a shitty coping mechanism,” Aiden nodded. “Fuck. I really just have to give him time, don’t I?”

“Precisely. But it’s gonna be fine, Aiden. I promise. He’s gonna come to his senses.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Don’t worry. If he doesn’t, I’ll just _beat_ some sense into him.”

“Thanks, Jaskier. You’re a good friend.”

“Oh, I know,” Jaskier grinned.

“Should I try beating some sense into your gorgeous wolf?”

“Could you?”

“Sure. I can try,” Aiden smiled. “But I’m gonna do it _after_ the Battle of the Bands, okay? You can’t have him performing with a black eye.”

“Should I wait with beating up Lamby, then?”

“Of course not,” Aiden said, smirking. “Nobody looks twice at the _bassist_...”


	16. Seems He’s Got a Boyfriend Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, my darlings. Guess who's back from her vacation? Yeah, that's right, your favourite torturer. (And the vacation was great, thank you for asking.) I'm gonna make this note short because it's half past one at night and I'm really looking forward to get to bed, but I really, really wanted to post this chapter first. (Lucky I've got another week off before me so I don't have to get up in the morning, right?) So as always, thank you everyone for all your lovely comments, and... please don't hate me for this?  
> Oh, and a word of warning - this chapter contains some transphobia. But I swear there's a reason for that...

Stella shook her head and opened a cupboard to take two coffee mugs.

“But… He only slept with her in the _game_ , dear.”

Jaskier did his best to avoid  the pitying gaze  she threw at him .

“Yeah. I offered him my character’s heart on a silver platter and he basically stomped on it and went to Yennefer instead.”

“It’s a _game_ , Jaskier. He probably didn’t even consider the possibility that you are being _literal_.”

“I know,” Jaskier sighed. “I just… I ask myself if I’m in the mood to watch him flirt with her the entire evening, _again_ , and then leave with her and… You know.”

She placed one of the mugs in front of him and smiled.

“Then fuck him, I guess.”

“Yeah, I’d love to, that’s the problem,” he smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. Strong. Delicious. Exactly what he needed.

“You know what I mean. Just tell him you’re not coming today. Tell him to pretend your character’s slept through the adventure or something.”

J askier bit his lower lip, nodding. He  _didn’t_ want to do  it . He wanted to go. He just knew how it would end.

“You’re right. I’m gonna do that,” he muttered. “Tomorrow’s a big day for the band. I don’t need to spend the night tossing and turning and imagining what he’s doing with _her_.”

“Jesus, Jaskier,” she chuckled. “You’ve got it _bad_.”

“I know,” he sighed. “And I hate it so, _so_ much…”

Geralt had been staring at his phone for the past minute. Jaskier had called to tell him he won’t be coming to their D&D  evening and Geralt still couldn’t believe it. Jaskier was always there. Always. Every session  in the past two months.

Roach whined and nudged him with her nose.

“Sorry, girl,” Geralt muttered, stroking her head. “I just… Can you believe it? He says he needs to get his beauty sleep. _I_ need my beauty sleep! I haven’t slept for a fucking _week…_ ”

Roach placed her head on his knee and grunted.

“And here I am, talking to my dog,” he sighed. “I’ve officially went mad.”

She just closed her eyes and gave another satisfied grunt.

“I’m just wondering…” he said. “But no. It would be stupid to call Lambert, wouldn’t it?”

Probably. But he had to know.

When it became obvious that whoever was calling wasn’t going to give up easily, Lambert groaned and answered his phone without even looking at the name on the screen.

“Yes?” he said.

“It’s Geralt,” the voice on the other side replied. “I realized I forgot to ask you who’s driving Jaskier to the gig tomorrow. I was kind of counting on you to do it, but I could–”

“Fuck Jaskier,” Lambert growled. “I don’t fucking care how he gets there.”

“Uhm,” Geralt said. “Has… anything happened that I should know about?”

“Fuck off, Geralt, not your business.”

“Are you… Are you okay, Lamb? I could come over if you wanted…”

“I said fuck off. I don’t want to speak with you, I don’t want to speak with _anyone_. Last time I spoke with someone, they had to ruin our lovely friendship with benefits by claiming they fell in love with me, so please, spare me and leave me the fuck _alone_.”

He ended the call and threw his phone to the other side of the couch.

“I hate you so fucking much, Aiden,” he sighed. “You and your stupid big mouth…”

Right at that very moment, Aiden was standing in front of the rest of Dandelions and smiling sweetly as they all stared at him disbelievingly.

“What the fuck did you say?” Dave snarled.

“I’m leaving,” Aiden repeated. “The band. For good. Fuck all of you, you bitches.”

“You can’t do that!” Mike muttered. “Somebody tell him he can’t do that. We need a bassist tomorrow!”

“My sources tell me you _do_ , in fact, have a bassist,” Aiden said, his smile growing all the sweeter.

“Julian,” Valdo growled.

“ _Jaskier_ , yeah,” Aiden nodded. “Let’s face it, bitches. After what you did to him, I was only staying because I thought it would be incredibly shitty from me to leave you without a bassist. Stupid, really, considering that what you did to him was even shittier. But since I _know_ now being without a bassist isn’t a problem, well… _Au revoir_ , cunts. That’s for stabbing him in the back.”

“Oh, is that so?” Valdo asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Are you sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re sleeping with one of the Wolves?”

“Oh, no. You know about… You _know_?” Aiden asked with obviously feigned horror, but then he laughed. “Yeah, whatever. I’m fucking one of our mortal enemies, right.”

“What? Which one?!” Mike gaped.

“ _Lambert_ , apparently,” Valdo smirked. “Don’t know how, really. He claims to be straight.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Dave shrugged. “This traitorous bitch is really _a girl_ , after all.”

Aiden felt his whole body go numb.  His hands closed into fists, completely on their own. His skin was crawling.

“You didn’t,” he whispered, barely able to hide his anger. “Tell me you didn’t sink _that_ low, Dave.”

“Wait, wait,” Valdo blinked. “Are you telling me Aiden’s a…”

“I’m a _man_ ,” Aiden growled.

“You wish,” Dave smirked. “You’re just a little girl who _wants_ to be a guy.”

“Stop it,” Valdo hissed. “That’s too far.”

“What? You wanna protect this traitorous pussy’s feelings or what?” Dave laughed.

T hat was when Aiden lost control and lunged at him like an angry street cat.

Lambert cursed when his doorbell rang. He should have known Geralt would come and try to talk to him after the things he’d said.

The doorbell rang again.

Lambert sighed. He knew how stubborn Geralt could be. There was no point in trying to pretend he wasn’t at home.

But when he opened the door, it wasn’t Geralt standing there.

It was Aiden, with his hair ruffled, a massive bruise blooming on his cheek and his lower lip bleeding.

“Who did this to you?” Lambert growled without a single second of hesitation. “Just tell me and I’m gonna _kill_ _him_.”

“Don’t,” Aiden sighed. “Please. No questions. I just… I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have come after what happened yesterday. I’m just gonna leave, okay?”

“Come the fuck in and fucking tell me the name of the fucker I have to fucking _murder_.”

“That was a lot of _fucks_ , Lambs,” Aiden smiled.

Lambert grabbed his hand and dragged him inside.

“Name. _Now_ ,” he grunted.

“Lambs. It’s okay. Believe it or not, they look way worse than I do. I can hold my own, you know?”

“ _They_?”

“Lambert,” Aiden murmured. “Please. I mean it. Don’t.”

He looked as if he was about to start crying, which he probably was, Lambert realized.

“Come here,” he whispered, taking Aiden in his arms. He was careful, just in case there were some more bruises hidden beneath Aiden’s clothes. “What do you need me to do, then?”

“This. Exactly this,” Aiden replied, burying his face in Lambert’s chest. “Perfect.”

“Good. I’m glad I can help, kitty,” Lambert smiled. “By the way I could also put some ice on that bruise. And we could sit down. Or _lie_ down. You know. In my bed. And I don’t mean anything sexual. I’m just gonna be hugging you in horizontal position. How does that sound?”

“Marvelous,” Aiden sighed. “But you don’t have to. I mean it. After yesterday–”

“Fuck yesterday,” Lambert growled. “You need this. You’re gonna get it. We can talk about yesterday when you feel better.”

“Is there anything to talk about?”

Lambert kissed the crown of Aiden’s head, breathing in the scent of his shampoo. He was kind of glad that Aiden was so upset, because that way, he clearly didn’t notice that Lambert was shaking – had been shaking, in fact, ever since he saw the blood on Aiden’s face.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I think there is.”

Geralt was having a really shitty evening.

D&D without Jaskier was way,  _way_ worse than he’d  remembered . Jesus Christ, how did he use to  _survive_ those evenings? How could he have  _enjoyed_ them?

There was no bickering. No silly jokes. No fucking  _fun_ .

“Wait, wait,” Geralt frowned at Yennefer. “Why the hell are you fighting with a _sword_? You’re a powerful mage!”

“I don’t know. Swords are cool, I guess?” she frowned.

He was waiting for Jaskier to chime in with  _Lutes and daggers are cooler!_ or something like that. He even looked to his right where Jaskier usually sat. But Jaskier wasn’t here, of course. He was at home and in love with fucking  _Lambert_ .

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered. “I… I don’t know. Is this session horrible, or is it just me? I mean, the dwarf couldn’t come, and… Jask couldn’t, either. I’m bored. Playing this in two people is _shit_.”

“I told you,” Vesemir smirked. “But you _insisted_.”

“Could we… Fuck,” Geralt sighed. “Could we pretend it never happened and continue this later, _with_ the dwarf and Jask?”

“Gladly,” Vesemir said. “You’re incredibly boring without him here.”

“Well, I don’t think he’s gonna be coming here like he used to,” Geralt murmured, downing his beer. “Seems he’s got a _boyfriend_ now.”

“ _That’s_ why you’re in such a shitty mood!” Yennefer practically yelled.

“What the hell do you mean?” Geralt frowned.

She bit her lower lip and her eyes went a tiny bit wider.  It was her  _oh-oh_ face. Geralt knew it damn well. She was clearly just realizing she screwed up.

“I… Uhm,” she cleared her throat. “Oh, to hell with it. You’re in love with him, you idiot, and now you’re _jealous_ because you _think–_ ”

“I don’t think. I _know_. That’s the problem,” Geralt growled before pausing. It was _him_ this time who said something he definitely wasn’t planning on saying. “And I’m definitely not in love with him!”

But it was way too late and he knew it.

So he did the only logical thing he could think of.

He placed his car keys on the table and got to his feet.

“I’ll come to get the car tomorrow,” he told Vesemir. “I’m planning on getting drunk tonight.”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Vesemir growled. “The competition is tomorrow, Geralt, don’t you even _think_ about doing it with a hangover!”

“Don’t worry. My hangovers aren’t that bad.”

“Geralt, stop it,” Yennefer sighed. “Let’s pretend I didn’t say what I said, and you didn’t say what _you_ said. Sit down. Please.”

“Lovely offer. But drinking sounds way better.”

He grabbed his jacket and he was out of the door before anyone could say anything.

As he closed the door behind himself, he heard Vesemir call his name.

He decided to ignore it.

Jaskier’s plans for the evening were pretty simple. He wanted to watch Netflix for a while with some ice-cream and a cup of tea, and then he wanted to go to bed and  _not_ imagine Geralt with Yennefer again.

It was a good plan, really.

But then, just as he was falling asleep on his couch and about to spill the tea on himself, someone started to bang on his door.

Before he could even place the cup down on the coffee table, the voice came. Low, a little husky and  _definitely_ drunk.

Geralt’s voice.

“Jaskier,” it said, louder than was necessary. “Open the fucking door. I wanna talk.”

“Oh, hell,” Jaskier muttered, getting up.

Geralt knocked again, way gentler this time.

“Jaskier _please_.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Jaskier said, opening the door. “Jesus Christ, you look like shit.”

“Not Jesus Christ,” Geralt replied.

“Yeah, my bad. You still look like shit.”

And he did. His hair was ruffled, his jacket not only undone, but halfway down his arms, and he was swaying so badly that it was a miracle he hadn’t fallen over yet.

“’M hot,” Geralt muttered.

“Not at this moment, I’m afraid,” Jaskier chuckled, grabbing his jacket to drag him in. “Come here, you big idiot. What’s gotten into you, for fuck’s sake, getting drunk like this _today_? Vesemir’s gonna kill you, and honestly, I won’t lift a finger to protect you!”

“Don’t care,” Geralt mumbled, desperately trying to get rid of his leather jacket. “Vesemir can kiss my ass. And you too. This is all your fault!”

“Oh, dear,” Jaskier sighed and helped him out of the offending piece of clothing. “What did I do?”

“You weren’t there today!” Geralt accused him, leaning against the wall to steady himself. “You weren’t there and it was shitty and I hate you and you just had to waltz into my life and make everything so fucking _complicated_! My life was nice before I met you! Nice and simple! And now it’s… it’s… complicated!”

“Yeah, you’ve already said that. Right. I think we should get you home. Somehow.”

“Don’t wanna. Wanna stay here.”

And before Jaskier knew it, Geralt was hugging him, burying his face into Jaskier’s neck.

“Uhm. Geralt?”

“I hate you. You just _appeared_. Poof. And you’re nice. And you’re funny. And you’re wearing the fucking red lipstick. Killing me, you know?”

“Geralt?” Jaskier frowned.

“And you tell me I should eat. And I get fat. And now Yen doesn’t want me anymore. And I don’t want Yen. She can go fuck herself. She can… she can…”

Jaskier felt Geralt’s body start to go limp.

“Okay, lovely. We’re definitely gonna discuss this tomorrow, when you’re sober enough to stay awake,” Jaskier sighed, doing his best to support Geralt’s weight and keep him from falling over. “Now we need to get you in bed.”

“Mhm, ‘kay…” Geralt murmured.

“Good boy. Come on. The bedroom’s this way.”

“But you’ll stay with me. Will you stay with me?”

Jaskier closed his eyes, imagining spending the night hugging Geralt from behind, pressing his head between the broad shoulders…

But he shouldn’t take advantage of Geralt’s drunken state. He  _couldn’t_ . Geralt was his friend.

“Please, Jask,” Geralt whispered, his voice on the verge of breaking. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Okay. I’ll stay with you,” Jaskier promised.

Fuck, he was going to hell for this…

He forgot to  close the curtains.

That was the first thing he realized when he woke up.

The second thing was the red light that was currently flowing in through the windows.

The third thing was that Geralt wasn’t in his arms anymore.

He was sitting on the bed, staring at the dawn.

“Geralt?” Jaskier muttered sleepily.

The room was terribly hot. Jaskier felt like he  was about to suffocate any second.

He got up and opened the window,  letting in a light breeze .  It helped with the heat, but not with the terrible humidity in the air.  The bedroom felt like a greenhouse.

Jaskier went back to bed and sat down next to Geralt.

“Come on. Talk to me,” he said. He didn’t dare to touch Geralt, let alone put his arms around the man, no matter how much he wanted to. “Geralt?”

“I always felt like she was constantly pulling me closer to her,” Geralt whispered.

“Who? Yennefer?”

But Geralt ignored the question.

“It was like I couldn’t resist her. She would just smile at me, just _look_ at me, and I would be back in her arms in no time.”

Jaskier closed his eyes. He really didn’t want to hear it.

“And now it’s all… gone,” Geralt sighed. “Can’t go back to her. Don’t want her. Can’t have who I want, though. Lucky me.”

Jaskier opened his eyes and stared at Geralt.

Geralt, who was still watching the rising sun.

“Maybe this is a sign, Jask. The red sky. A warning. That I shouldn’t do it.”

“Do what?” Jaskier frowned.

“Go back to Yen. I was thinking about it. Yesterday. When I was drinking.”

“You just said you couldn’t. That you didn’t want her.”

“Hmm…”

Jaskier forced himself to properly look at Geralt’s face. It seemed normal, all right, but his amber eyes were glossy and unfocused.

“You’re still drunk, Geralt,” he said. “Why don’t you lie back down?”

“Don’t want to.”

“Yes, you do. And you need it, too. Come on.”

Geralt’s gaze turned to Jaskier.

“And you? Will you stay?”

“I sure as hell am not gonna get up at fucking _dawn_ ,” Jaskier chuckled, finally taking Geralt in his arms and making them both lie down. He couldn’t help himself. He was desperate to _touch_ , and it almost seemed the feeling was mutual.

The little content sound Geralt made was the best music  Jaskier’s ears had ever heard.

“Thanks, Jask. For everything.”

“I thought you hated me,” Jaskier smiled, his face buried in Geralt’s silver hair.

“I do,” Geralt murmured, already half asleep. “Hate you so much. Hate you because… you’re in love with fucking… Lambert…”

Geralt’s breathing slowed down as he fell asleep.

“Oh,” Jaskier whispered, completely awake, his heart beating so hard he was sure it would rouse Geralt from his sleep any moment. “Oh, _fuck.”_


	17. I’m Weak, My Love, And I Am Wanting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my darlings! I've got some good news for you. One - I've got a brand new chapter for you. Two - it's slightly longer than you're used to. (The funny thing is - it was actually supposed to be shorter than usual, but then I started to write and it just went on... and on... and on... I'd apologize, but I don't think anyone's gonna complain, right?)  
> As always, thank you all so much for your lovely comments, they really do keep me going.  
> And when you're reading this chapter, uhm... Don't forget you love me, right? O:)

Jaskier got up at seven, much earlier than he usually did. Of course, he usually didn’t have a cuddly white-haired moron in his bed who apparently stole his sleep in order to finally get some for himself.

And oh, Geralt slept. For a man who claimed to suffer from insomnia, he slept like a baby. Well, a drunk baby.

But Jaskier couldn’t, ever since he heard the words coming out of Geralt’s mouth.

_ Hate you because you’re in love with fucking Lambert _ .

Even though Jaskier had  _ no _ idea how Geralt came to that particular conclusion, it was making his heart do excited flips in his chest. Because it could mean…

It could mean that Geralt  _ cared _ about Jaskier more than Jaskier had ever hoped. It could mean that he cared  _ for _ Jaskier. It could mean…

No. He shouldn’t let his hopes get  _ too _ high. He would talk about it with Geralt. And then he would know.

He grabbed his guitar and his notepad and sat on the couch.

The song he  had been working on for weeks was finally coming together in his head.

It was half past nine  when Geralt finally stumbled out of the bedroom,  looking pale and mildly confused.

Jaskier looked up from his guitar and smiled.

“The Sleeping Beauty’s finally awake!” he said, getting up. “Wait a second, will you?” he grinned, grabbing an energy drink from the coffee table and stuffing it into his back pocket. “Right. So, I’ve got a chocolate cake here for you. A tried and tested hangover remedy, as you call it. Don’t have the fries, sorry, didn’t know when you’d wake up. _But_ there is a Monster in my pants!”

Geralt frowned at the can Jaskier presented to him.

“Yeah, thanks,” he muttered. “But you shouldn’t have worried. I’m fine. My hangovers aren’t that horrible.”

“In that case, I envy you _tremendously._ If I got as drunk as you were yesterday, I think I’d spend the next day strategically sitting by the toilet.”

Geralt took the can from Jaskier’s hand and opened it.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have… bothered you.”

“You didn’t bother me. I’m glad I could help, dear heart. Besides, you’re the best kind of drunk. Cuddly and babbling… Yeah, bother me anytime you wish, honey.”

“It won’t happen again. I promise,” Geralt said, shaking his head. “I… Look, I don’t remember everything I said to you yesterday. Was it anything embarrassing?”

“You said my red lipstick was killing you,” Jaskier smirked. “Didn’t specify how, though. I hope it’s in a good way.”

“I… Did I? Shit, must have been drunker than I thought,” Geralt frowned. “Just… Ignore everything I said, okay? It was all nonsense, anyway.”

“Yeah, it definitely was,” Jaskier nodded. “You even said I was in love with Lambert. _Lambert_. Jesus.”

Geralt paused, blinking slowly, and it took all of Jaskier’s willpower not to chuckle.

“You’re… Not in love with Lambert?” Geralt asked.

“Afraid not, dear heart. Why would you even think I was?!”

“I… Fuck,” Geralt frowned. “I found this text. In his phone. It was an accident. And it was from a contact named _Dandelion_ and I thought… And then he _told me_ he had a nice friendship with benefits with someone and then _they_ ruined it by falling in love with him and I…”

Jaskier did chuckle now.

“And you thought he’s talking about _me_?”

“ _Dandelion_ , Jaskier. As in your former band. Oh. Oh, fuck. It’s some _other_ Dandelion, isn’t it?”

“I can’t possibly comment,” Jaskier smiled enigmatically.

“But they’re… They’re Valdo Marx and a bunch of bitches who kicked you out like an unwanted puppy! Lambert would rather cut his cock off than sleep with one of them!”

“My dear darling witcher, are you insinuating that Lambert is not as straight as he claims to be?”

“My dear darling bard, I think we both know he’s not,” Geralt smirked. “You obviously know the name of the person who’s railing him, and I’ve read the text. It was pretty clear. No room for misunderstanding.”

“Yeah, except when you thought it was from _me_.”

“You sure it wasn’t?” Geralt asked, his eyes meeting Jaskier’s.

Jaskier wanted to say something mildly funny, something like  _ I think I would have noticed if I slept with him, he can’t be that bad _ or  _ Swear on my beloved lute _ or  _ Unless I’m sleepsexting instead of sleepwalking, then yes… _ But he couldn’t. He was lost in the amber of Geralt’s eyes. All he wanted was to get up and kiss the man and tell him  _ Yeah, I’m sure, because I love YOU, you fucking moron… _

And then Geralt shook his head and took a sip of his drink and the moment was broken.

“Could I use your bathroom?” he asked. “I need a shower. And some mouthwash. Probably to wash my hair, too. I don’t think I should drive yet, and besides, I left my car at Vesemir’s…”

“Sure,” Jaskier sighed. “The door next to the bedroom. Take what you need. There’s a spare toothbrush behind the mirror, and towels in the cabinet.”

“Right. Thanks, Jask.”

“No problem,” Jaskier smiled. “And… Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“I swear I’m not fucking Lambert, and I’m definitely not in love with him.”

He saw the corner of Geralt’s mouth twitch a little.

“And with someone else?”

_ Yes, you, you, you, why the hell are you asking this?! _ Jaskier’s brain screamed.

He felt a lump in his throat. He thought he was ready for this conversation, he really did, but hell, he was nowhere near ready…

“Go take that shower,” he said out loud. “You really seem to need it.”

Lambert woke up abruptly, a split second after his brain registered that his arms were suddenly empty. He opened his eyes just in time to see Aiden swing his legs down from the bed.

“And where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Lambert growled.

“If you need to know, I was about to take a piss and then _maybe _make you breakfast,” Aiden turned his head, smirking.

“Bold of you to assume I have something to make breakfast from,” Lambert chuckled. “Come back to me.”

“Lambs,” Aiden laughed when Lambert tried to grab his hand. “It’s late. You need to get ready for that gig of yours.”

“Mhm, don’t wanna,” Lambert mumbled. He sat up, wrapped his arms around Aiden’s waist and wrestled the smaller man back to the bed. “Wanna cuddle more.”

Aiden squeaked, laughing.

“Careful, sweetie,” he said. “You’re so clingy I might start to think you have _feelings_ for me.”

Lambert sighed, burying his face in Aiden’s hair.

“Oh, fuck,” Aiden muttered. “I did it again. I’m sorry, Lambert, I just… Sometimes I talk before I think and–”

“Shhh. It’s fine.” Lambert raised his head to look at Aiden. “Kitty, there’s… two things you should probably know about me. First, I’ve got some serious commitment issues. That’s what got me so scared when you said the L word to me.”

“Duly noted,” Aiden said, smiling. “No L words.”

“That’s not what I meant. I don’t mind you saying it. It feels good, it’s just… scary.”

Aiden buried his fingers in Lambert’s hair and Lambert practically _ purred _ .

“What’s the other thing?”

“That it always takes me a little longer to fall in love, too,” Lambert sighed. “It drives most girls away. Now, I _know_ you’re not a girl, of course, but I’ve only been with girls before, you know, so I said–”

“I get it, don’t worry. And I promise it won’t drive me away. If you do get there in the end.”

“Honestly? I think I will,” Lambert grinned. “And way faster if you keep looking at me like this.”

Aiden lifted his head to place a light kiss on Lambert’s lips.

“I love you, Lambs.”

Lambert’s grin grew even wider.

“I’m getting there, kitty.”

Geralt was about to open the bathroom door when he  heard Jaskier strumming his guitar  and singing quietly . It was a lovely melody, slow and… kind of romantic?

Geralt knew damn well he shouldn’t be listening, of course. But he was curious. He’d never heard that song before. Was Jaskier working on  something new ?

He opened the door without making the tiniest sound and slipped out of the room.

Lucky for him, Jaskier was still sitting on the couch, with his back to the bathroom door.

“ _So tell me love, tell me love…_ Oh, cock,” Jaskier muttered, scribbling something into his notepad. “Fine. _Again_.”

Jaskier took a deep breath and started to play.

“ _The fairer sex, they often call it_

_ But her love's as unfair as a crook _

_ It steals all my reason _

_ Commits every treason _

_ Of logic, with naught but a look... _ ”

Geralt bit his  lip. Right. So it  _ was _ a love song. Great.

And about a woman, apparently.

Shit, and Geralt was almost starting to think…

“ _A storm breaking on the horizon_

_ Of longing and heartache and lust _

_ She's always bad news _

_ It's always lose-lose _

_ So tell me love, tell me love _

_ How is that just? _ ”

Oh. It was  _ that _ song. The one Jaskier had posted a snippet of on his Instagram.

Geralt’s brain yelled at him to leave. He didn’t want to hear whatever was about to come next.

But for some reason… he stayed where he was, silent and motionless, listening to Jaskier’s lovely, sad voice.

The woman must have broken his heart.

“ _But the story is this_

_ She'll destroy with her sweet kiss _

_ Her sweet kiss _

_ But the story is this _

_ She'll destroy with her sweet kiss… _ ”

Was it the Countess? Or some other woman Geralt didn’t even know?

Or was it really a man and Jaskier only chose to pretend it was a woman to make it a better love song?

“ _Her current is pulling you closer_

_ And charging the hot, humid night _

_ The red sky at dawn is giving a warning, you fool _

_ Better stay out of sight. _ ”

Geralt’s breath hitched in his throat.

No. No, that wasn’t possible.

He remembered the conversation. It only happened a few hours ago.

Red sky at dawn.

A warning.

_I always felt like she was constantly pulling me closer to her,_ Geralt had said.

But no. No, it couldn’t be. It  _couldn’t_ .

Jaskier just got his inspiration from that morning, nothing more,  _nothing more…_

But then Jaskier sang the next  two lines, his voice close to breaking.

“ _I'm weak my love, and I am wanting_

_ If this is the path I must trudge... _ ”

Those were the words Geralt found written in Renfri’s kitchen that night…

That night Jaskier got drunk with the guitarist.

That night Geralt decided, for some reason, to fuck Yennefer.

_ She’ll destroy with her sweet kiss… _

Oh,  _ fuck _ .

Jaskier closed his eyes to stop the tears that threatened to slip free.

His heart was beating, his fingers shaking,  the song was getting to him more than he’d ever thought,  but he needed to go on. He needed to sing  it until its bitter end.

“ _I welcome my sentence_

_ Give to you my penance _

_ Garroter, jury and judge... _

_ But the story is this _

_ She'll destroy with her – _ ”

And then, he was stopped by a pair of hands grabbing the sides of his face and lips pressing against his in a passionate kiss.

His body went rigid with shock, and then completely numb.

It took a few seconds for his brain to kick in, to realize that the only other person in the apartment was Geralt, that it was  _ Geralt _ kissing him, Geralt… Oh, hell, Geralt straddling his lap…

“Wait. Wait, wait,” Jaskier whispered, pulling away.

Geralt was looking at him, his amber eyes  bewildered and his  face flushed .

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I… I thought…”

His hands fell from Jaskier’s face and Jaskier’s heart almost broke in two.

“I said wait, not stop,” Jaskier said, quickly putting his guitar aside. Then he grabbed Geralt by the waist and pulled him closer. “Now come back here and kiss me again.”

Geralt smiled as brightly as the sun itself and crashed their lips back together.

Jaskier knew they should  probably stop and talk. He just didn’t care.

Not when he was getting  everything he’d been wanting (and  _ desperately _ ) for weeks.

Not when Geralt was in his lap and  he’d apparently just decided that it was time for their  _ tongues _ to join the game.

Not when Geralt smelled like  _ his _ shower gel and  _ his  _ shampoo.

Not when he felt Geralt’s heart beating like mad in his chest, echoing the thumping of Jaskier’s own.

Not when he slipped his fingers in Geralt’s  wet  hair and Geralt  _ moaned _ into the kiss.

No, this wasn’t everything he’d been wanting.

It was so, so much more.

And he wasn’t ready for it to stop…

How long had they been kissing? Geralt had no idea.

W hen Jaskier grabbed him by the waist and  laid him on his back on the couch, the only reason Geralt made a tiny sound of protest was that it meant losing his lips for a second. But then Jaskier was back, covering Geralt’s body with his own, kissing him again, and again, and then some more…

It was a long while before the kisses slowed down, as if by some unspoken agreement, and Jaskier pulled away with a smile on his red, slightly swollen lips.

“Wow,” he whispered. His face was flushed, his hair a mess (Was it Geralt’s doing? Well, probably.) and Geralt was sure he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Wow,” Geralt repeated, grinning.

Jaskier blinked, as if he was waking up from a dream.

“I mean,” he said, “we definitely need to talk. About what this means. But–”

“It means I love you,” Geralt heard himself say before he could stop himself.

“Oh,” Jaskier breathed out, his eyes going almost comically wide. “I mean… I had my suspicions, with all the things you said last night. But I… To hear you _say_ it… Fuck. Oh, fuck.”

“I believe we’re gonna get there, too,” Geralt grinned.

“I love you too, you know that, right?” Jaskier muttered, pressing his lips against Geralt’s temple. “Love you, Geralt.”

“I kind of figured it out. From the song.”

“And I was wondering how did I provoke _this_ reaction. Makes sense, I suppose.”

Geralt buried his face in Jaskier’s shoulder. He needed to be as close as possible to him.

“How long?” he asked.

“Too long,” Jaskier replied. “Weeks.”

“Fuck. Me too.”

“ _What_?!”

And with that, Jaskier sat up abruptly, staring down at Geralt with disbelief and horror in his eyes.

“What?” Geralt blinked.

“Are you telling me that I spent _weeks_ trying to subtly seduce you when I could have just… had you?!”

“ _Seduce_ me?” Geralt frowned, scrambling into a sitting position himself. “How were you seducing me?”

“Uhm, hello? Tight pants, vests, leather, the fucking _lipstick…_ ”

“Didn’t it occur to you that it might be a little _too_ subtle?”

“Did it make you want me or not?”

“I wanted you _before_ you even started with that!”

“Then why didn’t you _do something_ about it?!”

“Because I thought you were fucking Renfri!”

Jaskier blinked.

“ _Renfri_?”

“I know, I know. But I found you in bed with her, remember? And I… I was jealous as hell,” Geralt muttered, avoiding Jaskier’s gaze. “And then… Then I thought you might be in love with that _Countess_ of yours. And then…”

“Lambert. Jesus, Geralt, you’re such an _idiot_ ,” Jaskier sighed, straddling Geralt’s lap. “But my idiot. All mine.”

“I am an idiot? Why didn’t _you_ do something more about wanting _me_?” Geralt said, looking at him. A hint of sadness passed over Jaskier’s features as the bard sighed.

“Why do you think? You were fucking Yennefer.”

“To forget about _you_. Because I thought I couldn’t have… Yeah, I am an idiot.”

“So glad we can agree on that,” Jaskier laughed. “But I’m gonna admit I’m the same. I was too scared to make a move, and then I finally decided to do it, and you know when it was? The very evening your beloved ex decided to show up and _you_ decided to leave with her. Could you believe it?”

“Well, _I_ decided to make _my_ move the day I read that text on Lamb’s phone, so…”

“So we’re _both_ idiots and we could have gotten together at least a month ago?”

“Are we? Together, I mean,” Geralt smiled, wrapping his arms around Jaskier.

“Of course we are, my dear darling wolf,” Jaskier whispered. “Didn’t you hear? You’re _mine_ now.”

“Yours,” Geralt purred. “I could get used to that.”

“You’d better, my love.”

“Mhm. Say it again.”

“What? Mine? Or my love?”

“Both,” Geralt sighed, kissing Jaskier’s neck. “Fuck, Jaskier. Do we have to go to the competition today? Can’t we just… stay here?”

“It’s tempting, I admit. But no. _Oh_. Damn you, that’s my weak spot. Oh, _Geralt…_ ”

“We still have time. It starts at five,” Geralt muttered. “So lots and _lots_ of time to–”

In Geralt’s jacket  ( lying somewhere by the front door ) a phone started to ring.

“Looks like the time’s up,” Jaskier chuckled.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Geralt groaned. “I don’t care who it is, but I swear I’m gonna _murder them…_ ”


	18. We Really Are Stupid, Dear Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello my darlings! I can't even express how happy and excited your comments for the last chapter made me - I'm so glad I made so many of you YAAAY, and I'm glad seeing the two idiots finally get together was worth the wait for you! :D  
> Now for the slightly bad news I can finally tell you - this fic is slowly coming to an end. There's only a few more chapters left (can't tell you how many, since they're still only in my head - we'll see how much space they take up when I've finally written them down). But don't worry, it's gonna take me a looong time to finish them, since my job is getting more and more exhausting every day, and the current heat wave above Europe isn't exactly helping, either. Thinking of it, that's also kind of bad news, isn't it? Damn. :D  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

“Yes, Renfri,” Geralt sighed.

“Don’t you get it? I was worried _sick_ about you!” she shouted at him through the phone.

“I get it. You’ve told me six times already.”

“What was I supposed to think when Yennefer showed up, _in your fucking car_ , and told me you’re getting drunk _somewhere_?!”

“That… I’m getting drunk somewhere?” Geralt suggested. Jaskier, who was currently busy eating the chocolate cake that he bought for Geralt as a hangover remedy, chuckled.

“Remind her I called her when you showed up,” the bard muttered.

“Yeah, Jaskier says he called you when I showed up, so you knew you didn’t need to worry,” Geralt said, accepting a piece of cake Jaskier offered to him.

“That was _two hours_ after Yennefer arrived!” Renfri yelled. “And before he called, she insisted on waiting for you _here_. It was _torture_ , Geralt! Pure torture!”

“Come on, Yen isn’t so bad.”

“And what was I supposed to tell Ciri?!”

“The truth?” Geralt shrugged. “What _did_ you tell her?”

“Me? Nothing. Yen was here,” Renfri said. “And she said, I quote… Wait, is Jaskier around?”

“No, he’s in the kitchen, making me coffee,” Geralt grinned. Jaskier, who hadn’t moved an inch, was chewing on another piece of cake. “So what did she say?”

“ _Your father is drunk as hell itself and apparently sleeping in Jaskier’s bed. Let’s cross our fingers and hope for the best._ ”

“Damn. What did Ciri say?” Geralt laughed.

“Well, she said… Wait. You took that comment surprisingly well. _Geralt_?!”

“Uhm,” Geralt said eloquently. “What exactly is this _best_ Yen was talking about?”

“Jesus fucking Christ. You did, didn’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Renfri.”

“Yes, you do. Did you fuck Jaskier or not?!”

“Absolutely not!” Geralt gasped, feigning outrage. “What do you think of me?”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m absolutely sure,” Geralt said, lifting his foot to lightly kick Jaskier who was currently nearly choking with suppressed laughter. “I just slept well for the first time in weeks, that’s all.”

“Alcohol-induced coma doesn’t count as sleeping, you know.”

“Tell that to my well-rested body.”

He could almost _hear_ Renfri’s scowl.

“Well, whatever,” she said. “Are you gonna walk from Jaskier’s, or do you want me to come and pick you up? Don’t forget your car’s at home.”

“I’ll just call a… Wait,” Geralt said as he watched Jaskier get up and walk to the kitchen, his hips swaying. “ _Could_ you pick me up? And bring Ciri with you. I need her for something.”

“ _Ciri_? Yeah, right, I’m not gonna ask. I’ll be there in twenty. Tell Jaskier I said hi.”

“Will do. Thanks, Renfri. You’re a star.”

Jaskier was leaning on the backrest of the couch, watching Geralt with a raised eyebrow and a tiny smirk on his face.

“What, pray tell, do you need Ciri for?” he inquired, feigning nonchalance and failing.

“Surprise,” Geralt grinned, moving closer to kiss Jaskier’s lips. “Could I have a little request?”

“Depends. What do you want?”

“For you to wear that goddamn red lipstick tonight. I know you said you didn’t want it to overshadow your performance or whatever–”

“Oh, don’t worry, I decided to wear it the moment you admitted it was killing you,” Jaskier laughed. “Of course, I didn’t know back then how much I’d come to appreciate that it’s actually kiss-proof…”

“Is it now? Good.”

“By the way,” Jaskier said, leaning even closer to Geralt. “Why didn’t you tell Renfri that something _did_ happen between the two of us?”

“Because, _dear heart_ ,” Geralt muttered, enjoying Jaskier’s sharp intake of breath, “I don’t want to tell anyone on the phone. I want to see their _faces_ when we announce it.”

“Oh. Bad Geralt,” Jaskier laughed.

“What, did you think I wanted to keep you a secret? Never, Jask. I want to be able to do _this_ around them.”

Jaskier squealed when Geralt grabbed him and almost effortlessly pulled him over the backrest and into his arms.

“Geralt! Have you gone utterly _mad_?!”

“Jury’s out,” Geralt laughed, and how could Jaskier be angry at him when he felt those soft, lovely lips press a kiss against his throat?

“Oh, I take back everything about loving you. I hate you. I hate you so… Fuck you and your memory, Geralt, yes, right fucking there…”

“But I gotta admit,” Geralt muttered, “I’d rather if it didn’t become _public_ knowledge just yet. The band, Ciri, Yen, that’s fine…”

“Yen?”

“If I don’t tell her, Ciri will. Besides, she _knows_ I’m head over heels for you.”

“Fair point,” Jaskier nodded. “And I’m fine with it. I mean… keeping it a little secret for a while.”

“Mhm, good,” Geralt murmured, nuzzling Jaskier’s neck. “Hey… Do you think it would be better to play that new song of yours instead of Rose of Cintra today?”

“You want to alter the setlist a few hours before the show?!” Jaskier stared at him, horrified. “Eskel’s gonna kill you! How would you even want to play it? It’s a brand new song, the ink hasn’t even dried yet–”

“Since you used a ballpoint pen to write it, I’m sure the ink’s gonna be just fine.”

“Nobody knows it! Not _one_ of you knows it! You’re the only person who’s ever heard it, how do you want to _play_ it?!”

“That’s easy. Just you, your lute and your lovely voice. It’s all you need.”

Jaskier pulled away to look into Geralt’s eyes. Geralt’s soft, almost dreamy eyes.

“You’re mad. Battle of the _Bands_ , Geralt. We’ve got three songs. And you want to waste one on a silly ballad I’m gonna sing _alone_?”

“It’s a beautiful ballad.”

“We’re a death metal band.”

“It’s better than _Rose_ could ever be.”

“But Rose is _your_ song. Your time to shine.”

“Fuck my time to shine. That ballad is gonna _win_ this for us. You’re gonna win this for us.”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna burst your bubble, but you might be a _teeny_ tiny bit biased.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt smiled. “You’re gonna win this for us. Because you have no idea how _good_ you actually are. You’re the best thing that could have happened to the band. _And_ to me.”

“Flatterer,” Jaskier muttered.

“Does it work, though?”

Jaskier wrinkled his nose and snorted angrily.

“Oh, fuck you, Geralt of Rivia.”

“I sure hope you will. _Dear heart_.”

“And stop… Holy fuck, do you have any idea what does it _do_ to me when you call me that?”

“I do now. I hope you know it means I’m _never_ gonna stop.”

Geralt looked at the price tag and his eyes went wide.

“Jesus. I know why Jaskier said he couldn’t afford it. Holy fucking… And the blue one was this expensive, too?”

“Yup,” Ciri nodded.

“Are you sure it’s the one?” Geralt asked, his gaze fixed at the golden jacket in front of him. It was gorgeous and he was sure Jaskier would look absolutely stunning in it. (Jaskier looked stunning in everything, but that wasn’t the point, was it?)

“Sure,” the girl nodded. “And his size, too. Do you want to see a pic of him wearing it? I’m sure I have it _somewhere…_ ”

“No, it’s fine. I’m gonna take it,” Geralt smiled. “You said he looked good, didn’t you?”

“Oh, _amazing_!” Ciri exclaimed. “Though… Dad? _Why_ are we buying it?”

“Because I crashed at Jaskier’s place last night and I want to say I’m sorry for inconveniencing him?”

“You could just buy him a box of chocolates. Or a bottle of wine. Not an expensive jacket.”

“What are you implying, Cirilla?” Geralt chuckled.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

“Does _everyone_ know?” Geralt frowned, feigning indignation. “Did your mother tell you?”

“No, it wasn’t mum,” Ciri said, shaking her head. “And… Well, everyone knows, except Jaskier, basically. I mean, have you _seen_ The Bard and The Wolf hashtag lately? And it’s not just that you’re in love with Jaskier, it’s that _Jaskier_ is…”

“Jaskier is…?” he prompted when she suddenly went silent.

“I promised mom I wouldn’t tell you,” she beeped. “She said we were gonna lock you in a room together until you two idiots finally sort it out, but only _after_ the competition today.”

“She’s really looking forward to it, isn’t she?” Geralt laughed.

“Yup. Renfri, too. Said she was gonna help her.”

“Well, that’s the first thing those two have ever agreed on. Oh, dear. I can’t wait to thwart this little plan of theirs.”

“Dad!” Ciri whined. “Mum’s gonna _kill me_ if she finds out!”

“No, she isn’t,” Geralt winked. “What was the thing you weren’t supposed to tell me?”

“How can I tell you if I’m not supposed to?”

Geralt bent down to kiss the girl’s hair, smiling.

“Shh, don’t worry about it, princess. I was joking. I know what you were going to say.”

“You know?” she frowned. “How could you _know_?”

Geralt smiled, grabbing the jacket.

“Can you keep a secret, Ciri?”

“Well, hello, my darling, how are you?” Jaskier chirped into the phone.

“I hope you haven’t been drinking, because if you were, Eskel’s gonna kill you,” Lambert chuckled. “Aiden made me call you and ask if you’ve got a ride to the gig today.”

“Aiden?” Jaskier grinned. “So the two of you…”

“We’re fine,” Lambert said. “He says hi.”

“I’m so happy for you!” Jaskier laughed.

“Whatever. Do you want a lift or no?”

“Geralt’s taking me. Apparently, you told him to go fuck himself when he asked you to take me yesterday, so…”

“Yeah. Wasn’t exactly in the mood,” Lambert said. “Right. See you there, then.”

“Wait. Lamby? Is Aiden officially coming with you?”

“Sure. Last time I let him out of my sight, he left a band and got himself beaten up, so I’m not taking any–”

“He _what_?!” Jaskier yelled.

Lambert sighed.

“Fuck.”

When Geralt knocked on Jaskier’s door that afternoon, he definitely wasn’t expecting Jaskier to open it immediately, grin at him and then promptly kiss him.

“See?” the bard purred. “Kiss-proof.”

Oh, yes. Jaskier was wearing that red lipstick that, honestly, made all of Geralt’s blood vacate his brain and rush much, much lower.

“I see,” Geralt muttered. “Now look to your left, idiot.”

Jaskier did as he was told and Geralt had to try _very_ hard not to burst out laughing when he saw the expression of utter horror on his bard’s face.

“Ciri,” Jaskier said to the girl standing next to Geralt. “Been there long?”

Ciri grinned from ear to ear and nodded.

“Hell,” Jaskier muttered. “You could have warned me!”

“Relax,” Geralt laughed. “She already knew.”

“She…” Jaskier blinked. “Oh, fuck, I nearly had a heart attack. Jesus Christ. I hate you, Geralt!”

“No, you don’t,” Geralt winked.

“I absolutely… Uhm, Ciri? Are you okay?”

Ciri nodded, took a step closer to Jaskier and hugged him so tightly that Geralt had a feeling he could hear a few of his ribs crack.

“I’m glad you two stupids finally got together!”

“Finally?” Jaskier frowned. “Did _everyone_ know?!”

“Pretty much,” Geralt nodded. He put a gentle hand on Ciri’s back and leaned closer to kiss Jaskier’s red lips. “We really are stupid, dear heart, deal with it.”

Ciri squeaked when she heard the nickname and Jaskier rolled his eyes fondly.

“Right. Come in, you two, and gimme the gift you promised.”

“Greedy,” Geralt laughed as he stepped into the apartment. “We’ve got two, actually. Ciri?”

“They’re both from _dad_ , obviously,” the girl said when Jaskier closed the door behind them. “But he let me give you the smaller one. Close your eyes.”

“For real?” Jaskier smirked.

“Close your eyes or you get nothing.”

“Oh, I see you take after your father. Fun,” Jaskier sighed but obeyed, holding out his hand.

“Right,” Ciri said, placing something small and a little heavy on his palm. “Open.”

Jaskier opened his eyes and saw a wolf pendant that looked almost like the one Geralt had given him when Jaskier joined the band, but it _was_ a little different.

“Buttercups?” he whispered, stroking one of the tiny flowers that adorned the pendant. “Oh, Geralt. _When_ did you–”

“About a week ago,” Geralt shrugged. “I wanted to give it to you, but I chickened out. I was afraid it kind of screams _The Wolf is madly in love with The Bard_.”

“It does,” Jaskier grinned. “Thank you, my dear darling wolf.”

“You’re welcome,” Geralt smiled, raising his left hand in which he was holding a big black paper bag. “And now for the _other_ gift.”

“You’re gonna spoil me rotten,” Jaskier said, took the bag, looked inside it… and froze. “Jesus Christ. You didn’t.”

“I totally did,” Geralt smiled.

“How… Cirilla!”

“It wasn’t my fault!” the girl said. “ _You_ mentioned it in front of dad! I just showed him which one it was.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier sighed, pulling a golden jacket out of the bag with awe in his eyes. “I can’t take this. I know what it cost, I _can’t…_ ”

“Yes, you can. I want you to have it. Please?” Geralt smiled. “If it helps, I got a discount. Turns out the owner of the shop is also the one who designs the clothes, _and_ she’s a fan of Kaer Morhen. She’s already delighted that _Jaskier_ is wearing one of her creations, you know, the blue one, but when she saw _Geralt_ buying a jacket as a gift _for_ Jaskier…”

“She totally ships you,” Ciri said.

“But I…” Jaskier muttered as his fingers stroke the fabric absentmindedly. “Fuck, who am I kidding, I couldn’t give it back to you if I tried. It’s even more beautiful than I remember. Gorgeous. Stunning. God, thank you, Geralt, thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome, Jask,” Geralt winked, stealing a kiss from his lover. “I can’t wait to see you wearing it on stage.”

“Good. Because I’m definitely wearing it tonight,” Jaskier laughed, hugging Geralt tight. Then he pressed his lips against Geralt’s ear and whispered: “And later, I’ll _thank you_ properly.”

A shiver ran down Geralt’s spine as Jaskier let go of him, nearly bouncing with excitement.

“Right. We should get going. Eskel’s gonna kill us if we’re late and I’d hate to die before kicking Valdo’s ass in that competition! Chop-chop! Anyone seen my keys?”

The last thing Aiden expected when he got out of the car behind the venue was to see Valdo Marx leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette.

His first reaction was to pretend he didn’t see him, but that would be awkward, wouldn’t it, since he had to pass the singer on his way to the backstage. But he wasn’t exactly in the mood to…

And then he felt Lambert’s hand on the small of his back, gently pushing him forwards, giving him courage.

Valdo flicked his cigarette as the two bassists got closer and sighed.

“Hey, Aiden,” he muttered. “You look even worse than I thought you would.”

“Well, thanks,” Aiden muttered. “I’m so glad to hear that.”

Valdo sighed again and looked up to the sky.

“Look,” he said. “I’m really sorry about those two dicks. They… Holy shit, what they did was unacceptable. Beating you up for being… I still can’t believe they would do something like that.”

“Technically, they beat me up for punching Dave,” Aiden smirked.

“He shouldn’t have called you… well, all the things he called you. You had every right to bite his head off. Hell, _I_ was about to bite his head off.”

“Why, though?” Lambert asked and Aiden could feel the hand on his back tighten. “You’re a horrible bitch, Marx, so why is _this_ your limit?”

Valdo shrugged, dropping the smoldering stub to the ground and taking a new cigarette out of its box.

“I know what it’s like,” he muttered. “Because I’m gay, I mean, not because I’m… Jeez, Aiden, could you tell your boyfriend to stop glaring at me like I’ve just summoned Satan or something?”

“Lambs. Behave. He _did_ save my sorry ass yesterday, after all,” Aiden said before turning back to Valdo. “So… You ready to play today?”

“You mean after you piece of shit decided to leave the band in the lurch a day before our big competition?” Valdo laughed. “Yeah, I’m good. Haven’t played my bass on stage since Jaskier broke up Cidaris, but I’m totally ready to kick Kaer Morhen’s ass, your pissy boyfriend included.”

“Well, good luck, then,” Aiden smiled. “Lambs?”

“Yeah, break a leg,” Lambert chuckled. “Or a neck, preferably.”

Valdo closed his eyes and took another drag on his cigarette.

“Now _that’s_ a sentiment I can get behind…”


	19. Jesus Fucking Christ, Val

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks her head out after having been absent for the past month*  
> Uhm, hi, guys, how are you doing? First things first - I'm really so fucking sorry about the delay with this fic. You see, it's not exactly my fault. It's partly Netflix's fault, because it made me binge the new season of The Umbrella Academy, and then of Lucifer... Also, my work's been a bit hellish lately, I've spent the past few weeks tired as fuck, and my weekends have been pretty busy lately, too. I just couldn't bring myself to finish the chapter. But as you can see, I did finally managed to do it, and here it is, and I really hope it was worth the wait. :)  
> As always, thank you for all your lovely comments, and also for your patience, because the next chapter might also take a while, as I need to make like a ton of face masks for my colleagues and their kids, as I'm apparently the only person around who knows how to use a sewing machine... :D

Jaskier tensed when he got out of Geralt’s car to see Valdo Marx standing right next to the back door of the venue and smoking. That was before he looked closer and realized that the singer was surrounded by a bunch of cigarette butts.

He took his lute case from the back seat and headed for the back door. He heard Geralt mutter something to Ciri behind him, but he wanted to get inside as soon as possible.

“Drop the fucking thing. You really want to end up like your father?” he asked as he passed the Dandelions’ singer.

“We both know my father’s heart attack wasn’t caused by him smoking sixty cigarettes a day but by _my_ poor life choices,” Valdo smirked. “Hello to you, too, Jaskier. Oh, and isn’t this the Wolf himself…”

Jaskier frowned and paused. Then he took a deep breath and, with some amount of resignation, handed his lute to Geralt.

“Would you be a dear and take this inside for me?” he said. “Guard it with your life. Because if anything happens to it, you’re fucking dead.”

“Jask…” Geralt muttered.

“I’m fine,” Jaskier smiled. “Go inside. You too, Ciri. I’ll be there in a minute. Well… five minutes. Hopefully.”

“Five minutes,” Geralt said. “And then I’m coming for you.”

“So I’ve got five minutes to kill him and get rid of the body. Noted,” Valdo nodded. “Fuck of, Jaskier. You don’t need five minutes. You don’t need _one_ minute. I’m not gonna talk to you, so don’t bother.”

“Five minutes,” Jaskier told Geralt with a slight wink.

Geralt growled, glaring at Valdo, but he went inside with Ciri reluctantly following him.

“I’m not gonna talk to you,” Valdo repeated as Jaskier leaned his back against the wall next to him.

Jaskier pointedly looked to the ground. “Are all of those cigarette butts from you?”

“Not your business.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Val,” Jaskier sighed.

“Have you seen Aiden yet?” Valdo asked out of the blue, throwing another finished cigarette on the pavement and reaching for the box.

“Seen him, no. Talked to him, yes. Enough,” Jaskier said, snatching the box from Valdo’s slightly trembling hands. “Or you’re gonna have that heart attack right fucking now, and I’m not giving you mouth-to-mouth.”

“You know about yesterday?” Valdo said, licking his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Is that what made you stop and bother me with your presence?”

“Nope,” Jaskier smirked. “I stopped because you called me Jaskier.”

“Hell,” Valdo muttered. “I meant _Julian_.”

Jaskier looked at him, taking in his pale skin and black circles underneath the man’s eyes.

“Aiden told me everything. About those two bitches, about you saving his ass by yelling at them to fucking stop… You alright?”

Valdo closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Why would you care?”

“I don’t know. Someone has to, I suppose.”

“What do you want me to say? That I’m scared shitless of them after the things I heard them say to Aiden? Fine. I am. Happy now?”

“Val…”

“Don’t call me that,” Valdo growled. “You haven’t told them, have you?”

“Told…” Jaskier blinked. “Fucking hell, why would I tell them? They don’t even know you and I used to be a couple, let alone… Val, I never told _a living soul_ about you!”

V aldo shook his head.

“Gimme back my cigarettes, Jaskier.”

“No. And you did it again, Val.”

“Fuck. Gimme back my cigarettes, _Julian_!”

Jaskier took a step to the side as Valdo tried to grab for the little box in his hand.

“Why do you insist on calling me Julian, anyway? I’ve been trying to understand for _years_.”

“And you have no idea?” Valdo laughed, his voice on the verge of hysteria.

“Absolutely none.”

“You were always so fucking stupid, Julian,” Valdo said, shaking his head.

“Probably,” Jaskier shrugged. “Tell me.”

“Jesus fucking…” Valdo sighed. “Remember that when we met, you still called yourself Julian, right? And _then_ you changed it to Jaskier and everyone was like… _Oh, that’s so cool, so clever, I love it_!”

“Oh, I can see where this is heading.”

“Can you? Of course you can. Remember what happened when I asked people to call me Val, _just Val_? Not Valdo, not…”

“Yeah, and I remember telling you to fuck those bitches.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Valdo said, shaking his head. “You change your name, you get praised. I change it… And when I do it it’s a _disgrace_ and I’m disrespectful towards my parents?”

“I’m sorry, Val. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be. You did your best. I just… Oh, god, I _hated you_ for this. Loved you and hated you at the same time.”

“I know.”

“And you left.”

“Val–”

“Shut up,” Val muttered. “I don’t even care you left _me_. I guess I deserved it. But you left _Cidaris_ , too. We were about to sign the fucking record deal, we could have _made it_ , and you _left us_!”

“So all of this,” Jaskier chuckled. “You stealing my place in Dandelions, you making my life a living hell… Is a revenge for _that_?!”

“Cidaris was my band,” Valdo growled. “And you came and destroyed it.”

“Yeah, while you only destroyed my dreams, self-esteem–”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“My… Excuse me?” Jaskier blinked. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me.”

“Oh, yes, I _heard_ you. I just can’t believe _what_ I heard. Is this all the nicotine talking? Or your fear of Tweedledum and Tweedledee?”

Valdo rolled his eyes, smirking.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Oh, hey, look. Your boyfriend’s back.”

“My…” Jaskier turned his head to see Geralt coming out of the backstage door. “Wait. _How_ do you–”

“I’ve got eyes. Will you finally give me back my cigarettes?”

“Just… try not to give yourself that heart attack, right?” Jaskier sighed, tossing the box at Valdo. “Take care, Val.”

“Right. Oh, and Julian?” Valdo laughed. “Don’t think this changes anything. I _will_ kick your ass today.”

“Honey, you’re delusional if you think you have a chance against us,” Jaskier said, taking Geralt’s hand. “Let’s go, Geralt. Time to tell the band about us.”

“So… What was it all about?” Geralt asked as he closed the door behind them.

“Nothing important,” Jaskier smiled. “I just wanted to make sure he’s all right.”

“After everything he’s done to you?”

“What can I say? I’m soft.”

Geralt sighed,  brushing Jaskier’s hand with his fingers.

“You’re _kind_ ,” he corrected.

“Is everyone here already?” Jaskier asked, changing the subject. Geralt let him get away with it.

“Yes. Lambert’s got a plus one, actually. But I suppose you know that,” he chuckled. “He’s nice, actually. This Aiden. For a Dandelion, you know.”

“Don’t let him fool you. He’s just as horrible as Lambert, just better at hiding it.”

“So… A perfect match?”

“Lambert didn’t stand a chance,” Jaskier grinned.

“I see,” Geralt nodded, stopping in front of a door. “So, this is our temporary and _very_ small dressing room. How do you want to do this?”

“Just pretend everything’s normal for now,” Jaskier grinned. “We need to wait for the right moment, obviously.”

“Can’t we just… No, of course,” Geralt laughed. “You’re such a drama queen, dear heart.”

“Well, thank you. I’m glad you noticed.”

Jaskier opened the door and stepped in, not waiting for an answer.

“Oh, good,” Lambert said. “So Valdo _didn’t_ kill him. That’s weird. Who else thinks Valdo Marx is _very_ weird today?”

“He is _extremely_ weird today,” Aiden nodded solemnly.

“Well, good day, everyone,” Jaskier smiled. “Aiden, honey, has anyone told you you look like a fucking coloring book?”

“Not yet, thank you,” Aiden sighed. “But let me tell you, it was totally worth it, because it finally made Lambert _talk_ to me like an adult.”

“Wow. That’s something,” Renfri nodded.

“Very, very funny,” Lambert smirked. “But seriously, Jaskier, talking is good. You should try it sometimes.”

“You think Jaskier needs to talk _more_ than he already does?” Eskel blinked.

“You know what, I think that’s an _excellent_ idea!” Jaskier beamed, turning to Geralt. “Actually, I’m gonna try it right now!”

Geralt raised an eyebrow, feigning incomprehension. Jaskier obviously had a plan now, and Geralt was willing to play along.

It was fun to see Lambert’s face go a little paler.

“No, no, no,” the bassist said. “Jaskier, I think now isn’t the best of moments, think about the competition–”

“Actually, now is the perfect moment!” Jaskier beamed. “Geralt?”

“Hmm?” Geralt hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“I love you.”

Geralt heard Renfri gasp for breath and it took all his willpower not to burst out laughing.

“Hmm,” he replied instead.

Lambert cursed.

“ _Hmm_?” Jaskier frowned. “What do you mean by _hmm_?!”

“I mean I’m not sure what to do with that information,” Geralt said, deadpan.

“You… _ass_!” Jaskier chuckled, poking Geralt in the ribs.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Geralt laughed, threw his arms around Jaskier and kissed him.

He actually forgot the rest of the band was there until he heard a string of curses and whooping. He let go of Jaskier and turned his head to his friends.

“Uhm,” he heard Jaskier say. “We can explain.”

Renfri  crossed her arms and snorted.

“Yeah. You’d better.”

“When?” Eskel blinked. “How?”

“And have you… Oh, wait, Ciri’s here, forget I asked,” Lambert grinned.

“Also, fucking _finally_ ,” Yennefer commented. “Although I was really looking forward to locking you two up in a small room and waiting for you to… Ciri, why don’t you cover your ears for a moment, honey?”

“Mum!” Ciri whined, rolling her eyes.

“Is it just me,” Jaskier whispered into Geralt’s ear and wrapped and arm around his waist, “or did we really make a big mistake when we told them?”

“We can still lock them up,” Aiden pointed out. “I mean, if they haven’t…”

“Oh, yes,” Geralt sighed and buried his nose in Jaskier’s hair. “A _big_ mistake, dear heart.”

“ _Have_ you, you two?” Lambert asked. “Come on, we _need_ to know!”

The door opened again before Geralt or Jaskier had the time to react. Vesemir walked in, took a single look at the way the two of them were hugging and smiled.

“Oh, thank goodness,” he said. “Although you seem very calm for someone who’s going on stage in thirty minutes.”

“Thirty minutes?!” Jaskier yelled. “Oh my god. I’m not ready. We’re not ready. Where’s my bloody lute?!”

“Oh, yes, speaking of the lute,” Geralt said while Jaskier begun to frantically look around for his lute case. “We might have changed the setlist a _tiiiny_ bit…”

Yennefer leaned against the bar and sighed. The venue was packed. That was probably good for the band, but she hated it nevertheless. She hated the fact that she couldn’t even order a  drink in peace.

“No, Cirilla, you can’t have a virgin version of an alcoholic drink,” she said before the girl next to her could fully open her mouth to ask.

“Mum!” Ciri whined.

“Don’t _mum_ at me. Your father wouldn’t allow it, either. Or would he?”

“No,” Ciri grunted. “Fine. Coke, then?”

“Coke it is,” Yen nodded, and ordered one for herself, too. “Seriously, Ciri, you don’t want the virgin mojito, anyway. The lack of alcohol only makes you realize that the drink is just glorified peppermint water with some limes in it. Wait until you’re sixteen, then we can talk about it again.”

“Right. I… Oh, look, mum, it’s Emma and her mother!”

“Who’s… Cirilla!” Yennefer groaned and followed the girl who suddenly decided to run away, despite the ten times Yennefer had told her to _stay close_.

Luckily, she found her a few seconds later, chattering with a girl about her age and a gorgeous, dark-haired woman.

Ciri turned to her and grinned and Yennefer just couldn’t bring herself to scold her.

“Mum!” Ciri said. “This is Emma, from school. And this is her mum.”

The woman smiled and nodded.

“Stella,” she introduced herself. “And if this is Ciri, that probably means you’re Yennefer, Geralt’s annoying ex-wife.”

“Oh?” Yennefer said, cocking an eyebrow. “Oh, yes, of course. You’re Jaskier’s… Countess.”

“Hardly his,” Stella replied. “I’m more of a freelancer.”

“So I’ve heard,” Yennefer grinned, glad for the fact that the two girls seemed to be absorbed in their discussion about the upcoming gig. “A very interesting career choice. I wish I would have thought of it a few years ago. It sounds like fun.”

Stella laughed, her eyes sparkling.

“My dear, you have no idea.”

Yennefer nodded, taking a sip from her glass.

“I have to say... You don’t seem nearly as horrible as I’ve imagined you from the stories I’ve heard.”

“Likewise,” Stella agreed. “Although the stories I’ve heard about you might have been a _little_ skewed by some jealousy.”

“Oh, no, I really am a bitch.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that, dear Yennefer…”

Jaskier felt Geralt’s hand on his waist and took a deep breath.

“Tell me we can do this,” he said as the stage went dark and the rest of the band went to take their places.

“We’re gonna be great,” Geralt muttered. “You’re gonna be great.”

“You too, honey,” Jaskier smiled. “Go kick their asses.”

Geralt winked and followed the band on stage. The music started.

“Alright,” Geralt said into his microphone. “We are Kaer Morhen. And this is _The Song of The White Wolf_.”

That was Jaskier’s cue.

He took a deep breath and started to sing.

“Thank you, thank you,” Geralt said as the song ended and the audience started to clap their hands. “We’re a little short on time here, so we need to be quick. Jaskier?”

“Right. The next song,” Jaskier said, “requires me to take my beloved lute. And it’s actually a brand new song. Slow. Kind of romantic.”

“I said we needed to be _quick_ , Jask,” Geralt smirked, watching Jaskier rush to the side of the stage to grab the instrument.

“Oh, shut up, you dick,” Jaskier grunted when he returned. “It’s a song about love and longing and heartbreak. I call it…” He paused, because he didn’t call the song _anything_ yet. But then it came to him. The perfect title. “ _Her Sweet Kiss_.”

The band has already left the stage, except for Geralt. He winked at Jaskier, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder for a second and walked away.

Jaskier gulped. Oh, dear. He so wasn’t ready for this. It had been a horrible idea. He didn’t even remember the lyrics properly, for fuck’s sake, and he’d only finished the melody a few hours ago and…

But then his fingers started to play and all his doubts disappeared.

“ _The fairer sex, they often call it,_ ” he sang softly. “ _But her love's as unfair as a crook…_ ”

Renfri leaned in closer to Geralt, who was so busy watching Jaskier that he didn’t even notice her at first.

“Is the song about…” Renfri muttered.

“Yeah.”

“Is that how you…” she said when Jaskier on stage turned his eyes to Geralt, smiled and sang _I’m weak my love and I am wanting_.

“Yes,” Geralt nodded, returning Jaskier’s smile.

“Does _she_ know?”

“I suppose she does now.”

“You realize she’s gonna kill him, right?”

“She’s welcome to _try_.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Yennefer growled.

“Oh, come on. It’s cute,” Stella laughed. “I mean, yes, he’s being a little dramatic…”

“A _little_? Is there really no other way to express his undying love for Geralt? One that doesn’t involve _me_?”

The song ended and Jaskier was standing on stage, his head bent down, his eyes closed.

It was obvious from the shouts and the applause that the audience loved the song. Of course they did. It _was_ a good one. Yennefer just really, really hated to be a partial inspiration for it.

Geralt emerged from the side of the stage. That wasn’t suspicious in any way. The band still had one song left, after all. What _was_ suspicious was the way he was determinedly walking straight towards Jaskier, his face looking almost hypnotized.

“Oh… my… god,” Ciri said. “Is he gonna…?”

He was. He placed a hand on the back of Jaskier’s neck and pulled the bard closer for a long (and very sweet indeed) kiss.

The audience went completely silent for a second before erupting in a chorus of whoops and laughter and – in some cases – giggles.

“You’re not gonna kill him, _I’m_ gonna kill him!” Stella said. “He finally got that idiot he’s been in love with for weeks and he didn’t bother to tell me?!”

Geralt let go of Jaskier and took a step to his own microphone stand, a wide grin on his face.

“Right,” he said. “That was that. You know… Shhh. I’m talking, guys. We still have enough time left for one song, and I think we might play something a bit medievaly… Jask?”

Jaskier blinked stupidly and turned his head to Geralt.

“Sorry, you were saying?” he said.

“Holy fuck, I think I broke him,” Geralt laughed. “Song, Jask. Medieval.”

“Oh, right!” Jaskier said, brightening up. “I’ve got a perfect one. _Oh, fishmonger, oh, fishmonger, come quell your daughter’s hunger… To pull on my horn as it rises in the morn–_ ”

“That one is definitely _not_ what I meant. Also, if anyone here is interested in pulling on Jaskier’s horn…”

“Oh?” Jaskier chuckled.

“Tough luck,” Geralt continued after a brief pause. “It’s taken, and I’m not planning on letting go of it anytime soon.”

“What a _terrible_ fate,” Jaskier said solemnly. “I don’t know how I’m gonna survive that, honestly. _Anyway_. I think I know which song you meant. Does it go like this? _When a humble bard…_ ”

They left the stage, followed by cheers. The second they were out of sight, Jaskier grabbed Geralt by the shoulders, pressed him against the nearest wall and kissed him, long and deep.

“You said,” he growled when he let go, “that we were gonna keep it a secret for a while.”

“I know,” Geralt smiled. “But I just couldn’t resist. It’s the _I’m weak, my love, and I am wanting_. You sing that and I instantly want to kiss you.”

“Is that so? You know, I think I’m gonna sing it a _lot_ more often now.”

“Mhm, you’d better.”

“We should probably put it on our setlist, too.”

“Absolutely.”

Jaskier grinned, pressing his lips against Geralt’s once again.

“We’re gonna win, aren’t we, my darling wolf?” he muttered.

“I don’t know. I hope,” Geralt murmured. “Doesn’t matter, though. We were damn good today.”

“Yes,” Jaskier agreed. “Yes, we were…”


	20. He’s Your Nemesis, Not Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello, hello, my dears! It's me with a new chapter again. I had lots and lots of time to write this one, since I've been stuck at home for the past few days being sick. Don't worry, though, it's just a silly stomach bug and I'm pretty much okay now, even though I'm kind of sick of living on black tea, bananas, digestive biscuits and plain chicken steaks. Ugh.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the new chapter, and I REALLY hope alcohol isn't a trigger for anyone here, because... Well, this chapter contains lots of it. (Honestly, it's only to make the next chapter more amusing and trigger some confessions in this one.) And as always, thank you for all your lovely comments, I appreciate them very much!

“I can’t fucking believe it,” Jaskier moaned, hiding his face in his hands.

They were standing (or, in Jaskier’s case, sitting) in a tiny dressing room they’ve just seized.

“Neither can I,” Renfri sighed. “Vodka, anyone?”

Jaskier took a flask from her, took a sip and made a face of pure disgust.

“We lost to a fucking _trash metal band_ ,” he whined, returning the flask to its rightful owner, “that sounds like _actual_ trash.”

“Well, to be fair,” Lambert said, “all trash metal bands sound like actual trash.”

“How did we lose?!” Jaskier groaned. “I was so sure we were gonna win!”

“Shhh,” Geralt muttered and wrapped his arm around his lover’s waist. “It doesn’t matter. We did what we could. They were… better, I guess. Even though they really did sound like trash.”

“Man. I want to get drunk,” Lambert sighed. “Who’s heading to the bar with me?”

“No, thanks,” Eskel said, shaking his head. “That’s gonna involve meeting at least a few fans, and I don’t think I can do it today.”

“Count me in,” Renfri smirked. “I need to drown my sorrows.”

“What do you say, my dear darling wolf?” Jaskier asked.

“Not in the mood. But you go if you want. I’d much rather get drunk in the privacy of my own house.”

“Oh, come on, Geralt,” Lambert said. “Come with us, it’s gonna be fun!”

“ _Or_ ,” Renfri grinned, “we could _all_ go to Geralt’s. You’d go, wouldn’t you, Eskel? No fans in our house, I promise. And Ciri’s sleeping at Yennefer’s tonight, so we don’t need to be careful about setting a bad example…”

“It’s so nice of you to offer _my_ house for a party, Renfri,” Geralt chuckled. “But yeah, it’s a good idea. Much cheaper, too.”

“Okay,” Eskel smiled. “I’m in.”

“Jask?” Geralt said, turning to his lover.

“Of course I’m in. I should warn you, though, I get cuddly when I’m drunk.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Geralt grinned. “Vesemir?”

“I don’t think so,” the man smiled. “I’m too old for that shit. My hangovers are literal hell nowadays.”

“Fair enough,” Geralt nodded. “Lambert, Aiden?”

“Well, if you don’t mind _me_ there,” Aiden said, “I say we go. As you said, much cheaper and much more private, that usually equals much more fun.”

“Of course we don’t mind you there, idiot,” Jaskier smiled. “Wait. Will we have enough alcohol?”

“Yup,” Geralt nodded. “I’ve got some reserves exactly for emergencies like this. Don’t know about food–”

“Food is boring,” Jaskier said, waving his hand.

“Why, oh why do I have a feeling you’re gonna regret that statement in the morning?” Geralt chuckled.

“Shush, my dear wolf.”

The door of the dressing room opened and Yennefer’s head peeked inside.

“Oh. You’re here. Finally.” She turned towards the corridor. “Ciri, Emma, I’ve got them! Hello, losers, by the way.”

“Thanks for reminding me why I love you so much, Yennefer,” Lambert chuckled, just as two teenage girls burst into the room.

“That was _so_ unfair, dad!” Ciri said, immediately jumping into her father’s embrace. “You should have won. You were the best!”

“Well, that’s life, honey,” Geralt smiled.

“Life’s a bitch, then,” the other girl muttered.

“Emma!” Jaskier shrieked, clutching his chest. “You’re right, of course, but what would your mother say if she heard you say words like… Oh, fuck, hi, Stella. How did you get here?”

“Jaskier,” the woman standing next to Yennefer smirked. “Hello, everyone. Yennefer here kindly got me another backstage pass. I’m Stella, by the way. An old friend of Jaskier’s.”

Geralt leaned in closer to the bard.

“The fucking _Countess_?” he whispered into his ear.

“M-hm,” Jaskier hummed, nodding slightly.

“Right. I get it now.”

Jaskier chuckled.

“The girls just wanted to say bye,” Yennefer said. “It’s getting late.”

“Mum allowed Ciri to have a sleepover at ours!” Emma grinned. “I’m gonna show her my lute-playing skills!”

“Will you teach me to play the lute, too, Jaskier?” Ciri asked, her eyes sparkling.

“Oh, dear,” Jaskier laughed. “Of course, dear heart. Anytime.”

“Let’s go, girls,” Stella said. “It was nice meeting you, guys. Oh, and you were great, by the way. You deserved to win.”

“Thanks, darling,” Jaskier smiled.

“Have a nice evening,” Yennefer said, winking at Geralt. “Don’t drink too much. That applies to _all_ of you.”

“How the hell do you even _know–_ ” Renfri started.

“Experience,” Yennefer said. “See you around, everyone.”

When the girls said their byes and left, followed by their mothers, Jaskier smirked.

“Is it just me, Wolfie, or is your ex-wife totally gonna have a sleepover in my ex-dominatrix’s bed?”

“Totally,” Geralt blinked. “Gods. We’re doomed, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, we are,” Eskel nodded. “Let’s go and drink on that, too.”

Of course they had to run into Valdo fucking Marx on their way out. Quite literally.

Well, technically speaking, it was Valdo Marx who ran into _them_. Into Geralt, more specifically.

“Sorry. Fuck. Sorry,” the man said quietly, trying to sneak past the group. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Hey, Val,” Jaskier said carefully. “Everything okay?”

“Not really,” Valdo muttered.

He was _scared_ , Geralt realized. But why…

The back door burst open and two men walked inside the building. It seemed like they were _radiating_ anger.

“Oh, come on, you little bitch,” one of them growled. “You’re not gonna hide behind the tranny, are you?”

Geralt looked to his left, drawing his eyebrows in confusion. Valdo had moved right behind Lambert and Aiden.

Aiden, who was now held back only by Lambert’s arm wrapped around his waist.

Oh.

Well, none of Geralt’s business.

“Dave. Mike. Always so nice to see you,” Jaskier commented, stepping between Aiden and the two men. “What the hell do you want?”

“The ass promised that he could win the competition for us,” one of the men (Geralt had no idea if it was Mike or Dave, and he didn’t care – he hated both of them equally) said. “He didn’t deliver.”

“Well, I kinda promised my band the same, and you don’t see them wanting to beat me into a bloody pulp,” Jaskier frowned. “So may I suggest you fuck off, gentlemen?”

“You know, Jaskier, if you _want_ to be beaten up, I can absolutely arrange that,” the other of the men laughed.

“Yeah, one drawback with that.” Jaskier smiled a very scary smile and pointed at Geralt. “My boyfriend’s not gonna like it. Will you, love?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Geralt growled.

“Fine,” the Mike-or-Dave shrugged. “So just step away and let us get to that little bitch who calls himself a singer.”

“ _Never_.”

Geralt was ready to step in. He was. He didn’t _want to_ , but he also wasn’t about to watch those two assholes beat _anyone,_ let alone Jaskier. And even though there used to be a time when he would have loved to see someone punch Valdo Marx in the face… The man absolutely didn’t deserve it for _losing_ a stupid competition.

But then he heard Lambert chuckle and he knew what was coming.

“Oh dear, oh dear… Hold this for me, will you?” the bassist said, passing a struggling Aiden to Jaskier’s arms.

“Lambert…” Geralt tried, half-heartedly.

“I’m gonna enjoy this…” Lambert grinned, ignoring him. “So fucking much.”

Precisely twelve seconds later, the two assholes were groaning on the floor and Lambert was tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

“Oh, fuck me,” Aiden muttered, staring in bewilderment.

“Yeah, have I mentioned I’ve been doing kickbox for the past five years?” Lambert grinned and turned to the men on the floor. “As for you two assholes… stop swearing and listen to me, okay? If you ever think about touching Aiden, or _anyone_ else I consider my friend, I’m gonna find you, and I’m gonna end you. Consider yourself lucky this time, because the _next_ time, you will be spitting out your _teeth_ and there won’t be a single intact bone in your body. Are we clear?”

“You dick,” one of the men groaned.

“I’ll take it as a yes,” Lambert smiled. “Let’s go, everyone.”

Jaskier let go of Aiden and immediately wrapped his arm around Geralt.

“I think I know who’s gonna be topping tonight,” he murmured as the two bassists left.

“I think you’re right,” Geralt chuckled.

Jaskier turned his head to the rest of the band.

“Renfri, Eskel, are you…” He paused, blinking. “Hey, Val. What’s wrong?”

Valdo was as pale as the wall behind him, breathing heavily.

Renfri, who was currently standing next to him, took her flask out of her pocket and offered it to him.

“Vodka?”

“Yes, thank you,” Valdo nodded, taking the flask.

“You should probably leave,” Eskel said, eyeing the men on the floor. “Before they manage to get up.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Valdo nodded, downing the contents of the flask. Renfri smirked.

“I’d tell you to come and get drunk with us, if Jaskier didn’t hate you so much. You look like you need company.”

Jaskier hummed, almost too quiet to be heard – but Geralt heard him.

“I don’t really understand what’s going on here,” Geralt sighed. “But I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?” Jaskier blinked.

“He’s your nemesis, not mine. Your call.”

“Right,” Jaskier smiled. “Come on, Val. Let’s get you drunk.”

“What?!” Valdo blinked.

“Renfri’s right. You shouldn’t be alone. Come on, chop chop. We don’t have the whole night!”

“Actually, we do, Jask.”

“Right. But I don’t really want to spend it standing here, my dear darling wolf. So come on, group, we’re going to Geralt’s!”

“No. No, that’s bullshit,” Geralt said, gesturing with his glass of scotch. “Pure, utter _bullshit_!”

“He’s right,” Lambert nodded. “You two… You two absolutely _weren’t_ the bassist and the singer of Cidaris!”

“Oh, really?” Jaskier chuckled, leaning his back against Geralt. “And how the fuck would you know?!”

“Because…” Lambert paused to finish his drink before sitting more upright on the couch. “Because I saw Cidaris live. At least _five_ times. Geralt dragged me–”

“ _You_ dragged _me_ , you moron!” Geralt laughed. “Because you had such a _crush_ on he bassist!”

“Yeah, yeah, and that’s how I know!” Lambert continued, pointing at Valdo, who was sitting on the floor by the couch. “That’s how I know it wasn’t you. Because it was a _woman_ , and she was so utterly _gorgeous_ and _hot_ and… Kitty, pass me the bottle, will you?”

“Anyway, and the _singer_ ,” Geralt sighed dreamily. “Oh, my god, the singer.”

“ _You_ had a crush on him,” Eskel put in. “You were married and crushing _so hard…_ But yeah, it wasn’t Jaskier, no way.”

“Oh, wasn’t it?!” Jaskier snorted. “Let me guess. Tall? Broad shoulders, slim waist, wore waistcoats a lot, hair almost to his shoulders, had a beard…”

“Rumored to be sleeping with the bassist,” Valdo suggested.

“Yes, thank you, rumored to be sleeping with the bassist!” Jaskier exclaimed. “Totally sleeping with the bassist, too.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Geralt frowned.

“Because it _was_ me, you idiot!” Jaskier yelled.

Geralt’s eyes went wide. Renfri burst out laughing. Lambert swore.

“No. No no no no no,” Geralt said, shaking his head. “You’re seriously telling me that I had a crush on you… Before even meeting you?! But… He looked older than you do now!”

“Yeah, that’s the magic of the beard,” Valdo smirked.

“But there’s no magic in the world,” Lambert frowned, turning to Valdo, “that could turn _you…_ into… Oh, fucking hell, you’re seriously telling me that my hot crush was _Valdo fucking Marx_?”

“Technically, it was Valerie,” Jaskier grinned. “And the power of makeup.”

“ _Valerie_?” Renfri blinked. “Do you have like… a split personality or something?”

“Nah, it’s… It’s complicated,” Valdo said, waving his hand.

“It’s not complicated,” Jaskier snorted. “Spit it out, Val.”

“You know what tends to happen when I do that, Julian.”

“Yeah, when your group of friends consists of straight fucking _bigots_. But _here_ , the only straight person is our Eskel, and he definitely is no bigot, are you, dear? Besides, it’s not _that_ bad. I mean… You don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to, but trust me, you absolutely _can_ do it. They won’t blink an eye, I promise.”

“Ugh, fine,” Val sighed. “Genderfluid. I’m genderfluid. Like to call myself Valdo when I feel like a man, and Valerie when I feel like a woman. Val for short.”

“Oh,” Geralt nodded. “Cool.”

“Cool?” Val blinked. “That’s… all?”

“Makes sense,” Eskel shrugged.

“I’m still a little shocked, if it helps,” Lambert commented.

“Do you have any pictures?” Renfri asked. “Because if Lambert thought you were hot, I’d _really_ love to see that.”

“No, sorry. But if anyone has any makeup, I can show you in person.”

“You’re drunk as hell, Val, I doubt it’ll end well,” Jaskier laughed.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” Valdo smirked and stood up, only slightly unsteady on his feet. “So? Anyone?”

“I’ve got something upstairs,” Renfri said. “Come on.”

“I think Val needs more than a black eye pencil and three-year-old mascara, sweetie,” Lambert laughed.

“Go fuck yourself, Lambert, I’m sure Geralt’s got a dildo or two you could use.”

“Always so charming, our dear Renfri,” Lambert sighed. “Aaand it seems we’ve run out of scotch.”

“I’ll go get another bottle,” Geralt grunted. “But remember, you’re gonna hate yourself in the morning.”

“I’m aware, mummy. But has that ever stopped me before?”

“Oh,” Jaskier grinned about twenty minutes later when Val walked back into the living room. “Well, hello, Valerie!”

“Okay, I get it now,” Aiden said. “You really are very… aesthetically pleasing.”

“Even better than all those years back,” Lambert nodded. “Shame I’m taken. Ouch! I said I was taken, Aiden!”

“Is that Renfri’s T-shirt?” Geralt frowned. “Looks really good.”

“That’s what I said,” Renfri grinned. “The shirt was _awful._ ”

“I’m starting to get Lambert’s crush, honestly,” Eskel nodded approvingly.

“Thanks,” Val said, smiling. “I mean, it’s not perfect, but–”

“Nonsense. Come on. Sit down,” Jaskier said, climbed onto Geralt’s lap and patted the spot on the couch he’d just vacated. “So, is it just the makeup, or the full female mode?”

“Yeah, well, I mean, if you really don’t _mind…_ ”

“Full female mode it is! And now tell me. What are you planning now that you’ve managed to completely destroy my band?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, wrapping his arms around his lover. “ _We_ are your band.”

“Fine. My old band, then.”

“I… don’t know?” Val said.

“Why?” Renfri asked as she pushed a glass of vodka into Val’s hand. “You’re not planning on leaving us, are you?”

“Hell, no. Never. I love you all,” Jaskier grinned. “But when we were talking about Cidaris, I had the _best_ _est_ idea…”

“You know… I have a question,” Geralt said.

“I’m listening,” Val replied, biting her lower lip.

For the past few minutes, she had been sipping her drink quietly. Everyone else in the room was asleep – Jaskier curled up in Geralt’s lap, Aiden and Lambert intertwined next to Val. Eskel had already disappeared upstairs to spend the night on Renfri’s couch, and the guitarist herself was in the kitchen, probably searching for a midnight snack.

“What…” Geralt sighed. “What went so wrong between you and Jaskier?”

She was silent for a moment before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Everything, I guess,” she sighed. “Have you… Have you ever been with someone you loved _so much_ , but you knew you were just _horrible_ for each other? Because you’re just… too different, I mean. And not in a good way.”

“I have.”

“Jaskier… He always tried so hard. To be the best for me. To be exactly what I needed. And I just felt like I could never… do the same for him. I was going through a lot those days, figuring out my identity, trying to understand this whole stupid _gender_ thing, and then my father died and my mother blamed _me_ for it and I… I admit I started to abuse the power I had over Jaskier, because I felt like it’s the only power I had left, because I felt like he had everything he wanted and I had _nothing_ , and then the arguments started and _Cidaris_ went to hell, and then I started to really _hate_ him for stealing my band from me… Oh, holy shit, it sounds like a bunch of shitty excuses, doesn’t it?”

“It sounds like you probably should stop drinking,” Geralt said.

Val chuckled into her glass.

“How did I even end up here, Geralt?” she asked. “I mean… After everything I’ve done to him, he invites me in, takes me back as a friend, and why? Because I had a mental breakdown, apologized and nearly got my ass kicked by two angry idiots?”

“Look, I’ve only known Jask for two months,” Geralt smiled. “But even I know that’s just how he is. Nice. Kind.”

“You really are in love with him, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

“Good,” Val nodded. “He deserves someone like you. Take care of him, right?”

“That’s the plan,” Geralt smiled, pressing a light kiss into Jaskier’s hair.

Neither of them noticed Renfri coming back to the room until the moment she leaned against the backrest next to Val and whispered something into her ear. Val’s eyes went wide.

“Seriously, Renfri?” Geralt laughed.

“At least _some_ of us can get laid tonight,” she shrugged. “Not my fault that _your_ boyfriend’s comatose.”

“Actually, his boyfriend’s been awake the whole time,” Jaskier murmured, cracking an eye open.

“Fuck,” Val said. “You mean you heard…”

“Yeah. By the way, apology accepted,” Jaskier smiled. “And I’m sorry, too. For Cidaris. I should have stayed. I should have at least _tried_.”

“No, I… I get it why you didn’t. It’s alright.”

“Mhm…” Jaskier murmured. “Fuck, Geralt, I’m sleepy. Take me to bed?”

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to get up from my lap, first.”

“But you’re so warm. And you smell so nice. L’ve you s’much…”

“Need any help?” Renfri asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll manage,” Geralt smiled, cradled Jaskier in his arms and got to his feet, seemingly without any effort. “Enjoy your night, you two. And don’t forget to turn off the lights on your way out. Oh, and maybe throw a blanket or something over Lambert and Aiden so they don’t bitch about being cold. Thanks. Good night.”

Jaskier hummed, nuzzling his lips against Geralt’s neck.

“Night night, my dear darling wolf…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here, some bad news - this was the second-to-last chapter, making the next one, well... the last one. I know, I know. I'm also sorry this fic is coming to an end, but hey - there are always new ideas floating around, aren't they? And we're not at the end just yet, as we've still got that one chapter left. That's good news, right? ;)


	21. Tell Me Something Even Sweeter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears! First things first - I'm really sorry this last chapter's taking me so long. Real life's been a little hellish lately, and I was kind of procrastinating by writing one-shots instead of this one last chapter. To be perfectly honest, I kind of didn't want this story to end, so I guess I just... avoided writing the ending? But I've finally made myself do it, and here it is. The final chapter of the fanfic I didn't know I needed until I started writing it. :D  
> Honestly, I suck at fanfic-ending speeches, so I just want you all to know that I love you and that all your comments (even though I didn't always reply to them) made me extremely happy and basically kept me going and writing more and more. So thank you so, so much, and I really hope you enjoy this ending! :)

Jaskier was having a perfectly lovely dream. There was Geralt in it, of course – Geralt had been an essential part of many, many of his dreams lately. But this dream was especially lovely, starting with the White Wolf (wearing nothing but an apron) making pancakes for Jaskier in the morning and ending by him sitting on the counter, naked, while Jaskier…

Well it was a  _good_ dream, and it ended way too abruptly when  _something wet_ started to lap at his face. In his half-sleep, Jaskier heard a short laugh.

“Come on, Roach. That’s not very nice,” Geralt’s lovely, deep voice said.

“Mhmph,” Jaskier huffed, trying to escape the dog’s tongue.

“Roach. Stop it,” Geralt chuckled. “I’m so sorry, Jask. She always does this to Ciri to get her out of bed in the morning.”

“Well, I’m so glad she’s mistaken me for a fourteen-year-old blonde girl,” Jaskier groaned. “Oh, come on, Roachie, have mercy. I’m not ready to get up yet…”

“You should. Roach. Enough.”

Jaskier felt the mattress dip and he cracked his eye open. Geralt was sitting on the bed now, looking at Jaskier with pure amusement in his eyes. Roach had finally stopped her attack on Jaskier and nudged at Geralt’s hand instead. He sighed and stroked her head.

“Why should I?” Jaskier muttered.

“Because there’s a feast waiting in the living room, but there’s also a bunch of hungry, hungover assholes there. Meaning that if you don’t hurry…”

“There won’t be anything left to eat. Point taken,” Jaskier sighed, yawning. “What are we having?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Geralt chuckled.

“Mhm, belgian fries? Chocolate cake?” Jaskier grinned.

“Lots of different cakes, actually. And pizza. Lambert always demands pizza when he’s hungover. And burgers.”

“You were serious about the feast. One more question, though…”

“Yes, Jaskier,” Geralt laughed, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans. “There _is_ a Monster in my pants.”

“You’re a star, Geralt. Even though I can’t understand how can you be so cheerful and energetic after everything you drank yesterday!”

“What can I say, love? My metabolism is great. But if it helps, I’m the only one who’s like that. The rest looks… Honestly, some of them look even _worse_ than you do, and you look like Death personified.”

“Flatterer,” Jaskier laughed, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “Right. Gimme the Monster, darling. And… Would you happen to know where my T-shirt is? And my pants, come to think of it. Damn. Did you undress me, Geralt?”

“No, that was all you, dear heart. You took off your T-shirt, then your pants, then you sang _toss your clothes_ _at_ _your Witcher_ , jumped in bed and fell asleep like two seconds later. I never knew how heavy you were until I had to get your unconscious body _under_ the cover.”

“Oh, hell,” Jaskier groaned. “Oh, Geralt, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry…”

“It’s fine,” Geralt laughed. “You’re cute when you’re drunk. _And_ cuddly. It was like spending the night with a very affectionate octopus. Well, between an octopus and a giant ball of fur, since Roach decided to join us on the bed. I swear, my cuddly bard, that I haven’t slept this good in _weeks_.”

“My god, I think I’m gonna die from the embarrassment.”

“Embarrassed? You? Well, that’s a new one,” Geralt grinned. “Never thought you had it in you, dear heart.”

“Yeah. Me neither. I swear, darling, this is _not_ how I imagined my first night in your bed.”

“Maybe. But Jask… I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“So… You’re a girl sometimes, and then other times, you’re a boy.”

Val nodded solemnly, clutching her energy drink to her chest.

“But how do I tell which one you are?” Ciri frowned.

“You ask, darling,” Val chuckled. “Well, or you guess. I don’t… Jesus Christ, I think I’m actually gonna die very soon, so you don’t need to worry about calling me anything.”

“Shut up and eat those fucking fries, you pussy,” Aiden muttered, stuffing a handful of fries into his mouth. “They work like a fucking miracle.”

Lambert chuckled, chewing his hamburger.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth, kitty?”

“Lambs, who do you think _taught_ me those words?”

“Guys. I’m questioning Val here!” Ciri huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, _questioning_ ,” said Jaskier’s voice from behind her. “Sweetie, there’s no need to do that. I’m not mad at… Which Val is it today, Val?”

“Valerie,” Val smiled.

“Right. Not mad at Valerie anymore, Ciri,” Jaskier grinned, squeezing in between Val and Aiden. “And let me tell you, Val, that you look like utter shit.”

“This is how you do it,” Val said, pointing at Jaskier. “I mean… not the _look like shit_ part, that’s a horrible thing to say to a lady, Jaskier.”

“Yeah, we both know that even as a woman, you’re no lady.”

“Thanks for reminding me why I hate you,” Valerie snorted. “Look, Ciri, it’s… pretty simple, actually. When I look like a guy, I’m a guy, and I like to be called Valdo. When I look like a woman, I’m a woman, and I like to be called Valerie. And you can always call me Val. As for pronouns, I don’t really care, so use whatever you like.”

“Right,” Ciri nodded. “Makes sense.”

“I hope it does,” Valerie smiled, reached across Jaskier and stole two of Aiden’s fries. “And thank you. For… being so nice. And I should probably apologize for being so mean that one time you met me before…”

“Mean?” Geralt, who had just leaned across the backrest behind Jaskier, growled. “You were _mean_ to my daughter, Val?”

“No. To me,” Jaskier muttered, burying his fingers in Geralt’s hair. “Ciri was just with me. And _no_ , I don’t need you to defend my honor, love.”

“Hmmm,” Geral hummed.

“Really, dad, it was nothing. I’ve already forgotten about it,” Ciri said.

“If you say so,” Geralt nodded, placing a kiss on Jaskier’s temple. “Want anything to eat, dear heart?”

“Just _when_ did you start calling people that?” Eskel, who was curled up in a nearby chair, asked, opened one eye and immediately groaned. “It’s horrible to hear an endearment like that come out of your mouth, Wolf.”

“Not people. Only Jaskier,” Geralt muttered, smiling.

“Oh, dear lord, you’ve got it way worse than I thought,” Yennefer said, walking into the room. “Have everyone come back to the land of the living already, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

“I don’t know. Renfri?” Lambert said and lifted his foot to poke the guitarist who was sitting on the floor.

“Fuck off, Lambert,” she groaned. “My head, Jesus…”

“I think you’ve hit it quite a few times last night,” Eskel snorted. “Judging by the sounds coming from your bedroom.”

“That was actually my head,” Val grinned.

“Oh, sorry, my bad.”

“Ugh. Gross,” Ciri said, grimacing.

“Jesus Christ,” Yennefer sighed. “Right, could I have your attention, please?”

“Only if you stop yelling,” Jaskier groaned, reaching for a piece of chocolate cake. “I hate it when people yell at me when I’m hungover. Oh. Oh, gods, this cake is delicious. You must tell me where you get it from, Geralt, because I need this every single day of my life. Or at least once a week.”

“I think that could be arranged,” Geralt muttered, wrapping an arm around Jaskier’s chest. “For a price, of course.”

“ _Geralt_ ,” Yennefer growled. “Behave.”

“Mhm…” Geralt hummed into Jaskier’s hair. “No.”

“Let me handle this, mum,” Ciri grinned. “So who wants to hear what your fans think about your gig yesterday?”

“That we’re a bunch of fucking losers?” Eskel suggested.

“I bet there’s lots of screaming about those two idiots finally getting together,” Lambert smirked, pointing at Jaskier and Geralt.

“Hashtag thebardandthewolf,” Aiden added.

“Well… Yeah,” Ciri nodded. “Not the losers part, though. Nobody thinks you’re losers. Believe it or not, your fans are really sad that you didn’t win. But… yeah, definitely happy for dad and Jaskier.”

“It _was_ about time,” Val said.

“ _Et tu, Brute_?” Jaskier groaned. “Oh, come on, it couldn’t have been _that_ obvious!”

Ciri cleared her throat.

“I’m just glad the Bard and the Wolf finally stopped looking at each other like a hungry dog at a bone and apparently decided to finally… well, bone,” she read aloud from her phone.

Geralt laughed.

“There are many, many like this one, right?” he asked.

“ _Tons_ ,” Ciri nodded. “And don’t bother telling me I shouldn’t be reading them.”

“You absolutely shouldn’t be reading them,” Jaskier nodded. “But please, do go on.”

“No, don’t go on,” Yennefer said. “But thank you, honey, for getting their attention.”

“You’re welcome,” Ciri grinned. “Now tell them the good news.”

“The good news?” Geralt frowned. “What’s going on here, Yen?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Yennefer smiled. “Well, my dears. It seems that even though you’re such a bunch of losers, your fans really like you, and, as Ciri said, they don’t like the fact that you didn’t win the competition. Apparently, they were really looking forward to a new album with Jaskier’s vocals. I’m trying very hard not to be insulted.”

“Yeah, well, our fans have great taste, I see,” Lambert said.

“Are you insinuating that Jaskier is a better singer than me?” Yennefer asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“I’m not insinuating anything, hon, it’s just facts.”

“You’re being a horrible bitch, as usual, Lambert.”

“Likewise, Yennefer.”

“Oh, dear,” Ciri sighed, rolling her eyes. “Your fans have crowdfunded your next album!”

“What?!” Jaskier gasped.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Renfri blinked.

“Like… like a real _album_?!” Eskel frowned.

“Yes,” Yennefer nodded. “And yes, and they did it during those few hours you spent getting drunk as hell. Someone posted an idea, some other person created the campaign… Somebody else who apparently fucking owns a recording studio offered you a massive discount, and, well, congratulations, your next album is now fully funded.”

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered. “You’re actually serious?”

“Absolutely,” she smiled.

“Oh, yes. Yes!” Jaskier yelled, turned around and planted a short but passionate kiss on Geralt’s lips. “We did it! We did it, love!”

“Let’s be honest with ourselves,” Lambert laughed. “It’s only happened because you two morons couldn’t help falling in love with each other.”

“No. It’s because we’re the best,” Geralt smiled against Jaskier’s lips. “You helped, Jask, of course.”

“Excuse me? _Helped_?” Jaskier frowned. “Do I need to remind you that _two_ of the three songs we played yesterday were actually mine?”

“All right, you helped _a lot_ , happy?”

“Better,” Jaskier nodded. “If I stayed in Dandelions, we could have _won_.”

“Oh, fuck Dandelions,” Val groaned. “You’re much happier in Kaer Morhen. And I’m much happier _away_ from those two assholes.”

“Fuck Dandelions!” Aiden nodded, raising his fries.

“Yeah, you both will be better off in Cidaris,” Jaskier nodded.

“Ci… What?” Val blinked.

“ _Cidaris_?” Aiden asked.

“Just how drunk were you yesterday?” Jaskier chuckled. “You two idiots decided to revive our old band! Not with me as a singer, of course. You both agreed you needed to find a new one. Well, after Geralt told you that he was willing to decapitate everyone who’d try to steal me from Kaer Morhen _and_ from him.”

“Oh. Oh, yes. I kind of remember that,” Val said, biting her lip. “It was your idea, wasn’t it?”

“Totally,” Jaskier nodded. “But you agreed. Both of you.”

“But… We’re two bassists!” Aiden objected. “Unless… Oh, no. No. Please don’t tell me I said I would play the guitar…”

“You did, kitty,” Lambert laughed. “I tried to convince you not to, but you wouldn’t listen. You said that you’d been wasting your talent in Dandelions and that you were a much better guitarist than you are a bassist.”

“Hell,” Aiden muttered. “Ugh. I must have been drunk as hell. I mean, I _am_ pretty good at playing the guitar, but it’s so much _work_!”

“Shut up,” Renfri groaned. “You played for us yesterday. Even drunk, you are better than I am. You _were_ wasting your talent playing the bass in that shitty band. No offense, Jaskier.”

“Wait. _Fucking wait_ ,” Val suddenly said, looking around. “Has anybody seen my phone? Because I have a bad feeling. You. Uhm…” she frowned, pointing at Yennefer.

“Yen,” Geralt said helpfully, smirking.

“Yen, right,” Val nodded. “You said an _owner_ of a recording studio offered these morons a massive discount, right? Would you happen to know the owner’s nickname or… something?”

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” Jaskier blinked. “Since when you’re an owner of a fucking recording studio?!”

“Since like… a year ago?” Val shrugged. “You know it was one of my dreams.”

“V. Marx,” Ciri read aloud from her phone screen. “Well, that’s kinda obvious…”

“Mhm,” Val nodded, frowning. “But I still have no idea _when_ and _how_.”

“You came in the living room when Renfri fell asleep and insisted on having another drink with me,” Eskel murmured. “You were checking your phone, and then you yelled _Oh, yes, this is gonna be good!_ and started typing like your life depended on it.”

“And this, Cirilla,” Geralt chuckled, “is why you should never drink more than you can handle.”

“Noted,” the girl nodded.

“Val, you’re my _hero_!” Jaskier grinned, kissing Val’s cheek.

“You’re welcome. I guess,” Val smiled. “But I hope it’s gonna be good, at least.”

“Oh, absolutely. I’ve got _tons_ of new song ideas. Great ones. And we can always remake some of the older ones… Uhm, I didn’t mean to say that they’re _bad_ or anything…”

“I really do hope so,” Yennefer said, fixing him with a stern gaze. “I’m sure _you_ wouldn’t even think of suggesting your singing is better than mine.”

“Yen. Stop scaring him,” Geralt said and buried his face in Jaskier’s neck. “Besides, it is.”

“Excuse me?” Yennefer blinked. “You two. This new band of yours. Does it have a singer?”

“Uhm,” Valerie gulped. “Not yet, as far as I know. I mean, I certainly don’t want to do it, I _hate_ being a singer, I’m sure of it after those two months in Dandelions.”

“Well, congratulations, you’ve just acquired one,” Yen said, narrowing her eyes at Jaskier.

“Yeah, thanks,” Aiden chuckled. “But I guess we should have some sort of an audition first.”

“No need. You want me.”

“Seriously, mum?” Ciri beamed. “Oh my god, Cidaris are just the _best_! Have you ever heard their music? I _love_ them!”

“Oh, you want a war?” Jaskier laughed. “Right. I bet I’m gonna be _way_ more successful with your former band than you’re gonna be with mine.”

“That’s not fair. You’ve got a cute romance with my ex-husband.”

“You can have Val if you want,” Jaskier shrugged.

“Excuse me!” Val gasped, feigning outrage.

“She’s good. Ninety percent, highly recommended,” Renfri chuckled.

“I’m sitting right here, you know?!”

“Okay. Ninety-five, then.”

“Oh, lord,” Val sighed, closing her eyes. “You know what, forget about me. I can’t do this. I’m going back to being a bitch.”

“Yeah, too late for that, sweetie, we’ve already adopted you,” Geralt grinned. “Just as we adopted Jask. And Aiden.”

“Don’t fight it,” Jaskier smiled. “Just accept it as a fact. You’re ours and we love you.”

“And you will love me until Cidaris becomes more popular than Kaer Morhen, am I right?”

“Oh, honey,” Jaskier laughed, reaching for a slice of pizza. “Don’t worry. Because that’s never gonna happen.”

S everal hours later, Geralt gave a deep, satisfied sigh and buried his face into the dark, curly hair on Jaskier’s sweaty chest. He felt the bard’s rapid heartbeat, heard his quiet humming.

“Oh my fucking god,” he managed, laughing. “I can see now why everyone wants to be fucked by you.”

“You mean you didn’t before?” Jaskier chuckled.

“Should I have?” Geralt asked, not even bothering to look up.

“Of course you should have. Gods! There are so many reasons to fuck me. My face. My eyes. My figure. And last but not least, my wonderful personality!”

“Mhm, your lips with that fucking red lipstick…” Geralt sighed, placing a kiss dangerously close to Jaskier’s nipple.

“See? You _did_ have a reason!” Jaskier grinned.

This time, Geralt did look up, but only to kiss Jaskier on the lips.

“Yeah. The reason is that I love you and you’re _incredibly_ hot.”

“Likewise,” Jaskier smiled. “My gorgeous Wolf. I only hope I lived up to your expectations.”

“You got me _screaming_ , Jask. And I’m absolutely not a screamer. I’m glad Ciri’s spending one more night at Yen’s, and I have no idea how we’re gonna do it when she’s around. I’m gonna have to soundproof this room or something. _Lived up to my expectations_ , my ass. You know how good you are.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice to hear it,” Jaskier shrugged. “You’re amazing, too, you know? Your body. The sounds you make. Oh, Geralt, the way your face twists in pleasure… So gorgeous. And mine. All mine.”

“All yours,” Geralt agreed. “I still can’t believe it, you know? That I got you. That you love me back.”

“I know. It feels surreal, doesn’t it? I’ve spent _weeks_ dreaming about this. Holding you in my arms. Kissing you. Making love to you. Just… being with you.”

“Mhm…” Geralt hummed. “We’d better get used to it. Because I meant it when I said I’m not planning on letting go of you anytime soon.”

“Well, you weren’t actually talking about me, just about my _cock–_ ”

“I’m keeping _all_ of you, your cock included,” Geralt laughed, wrapping his lips around Jaskier’s nipple.

“Such a romantic, love,” Jaskier giggled. “But oh, yes please. More.”

“Yes. Anything,” Geralt murmured. “Just tell me what you need.”

“I need…”

There was a scratch on the door and a tiny whine.

“Oh, dear,” Geralt sighed. “That’s Roach.”

“You don’t say,” Jaskier giggled. “I thought it was a secret cat you didn’t tell me about.”

“I’m sorry. She usually sleeps in Ciri’s bed, but Ciri isn’t around today and… Roach tends to get lonely. Would you mind if I let her in here? She’ll probably just cuddle with me for a few minutes and then go and find a place to–”

“Shush. You don’t need to convince me. Just let her in, and if she wants to stay for the whole night, I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do, you see, because I was really looking forward to fucking you into the mattress.”

“You can do that in he morning, love,” Jaskier smiled. “And then just about whenever you want.”

“Deal,” Geralt muttered, getting up.

H e walked to the door and opened it. Roach immediately sprinted by him, and before he even closed the door, he heard a muffled  _oof!_ from the bed. When he turned around, ready to scold the dog, he found her already curled up underneath Jaskier’s arm, pointedly ignoring Geralt’s presence.

“Traitor,” Geralt muttered.

“Hey, my other arm is still free,” Jaskier grinned and lifted said arm invitingly. “And you’re definitely welcome to cuddle with us.”

“You’re so kind to me, Jask. I was afraid you were gonna send me to sleep on the couch.”

“Geralt! I would _never_.”

Geralt laughed and slipped into the bed and underneath Jaskier’s arm. He lowered his head on his lover’s chest and  hummed.

“Oh, yes. This is nice.”

“I agree. Very nice,” Jaskier replied, kissing the top of Geralt’s head. “I could really get used to this.”

“You’d better,” Geralt smiled. “I hope you don’t mind if I fall asleep before Roach gets up, though.”

“Mhm… Geralt, are you telling me your recent bout of insomnia was caused by being madly in love with me, and now that you _have_ me you’re gonna start sleeping like a baby?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“It _was_?”

“Shut up, Jaskier, or I’m gonna smother you with a pillow.”

“Oh, dear. Geralt, that’s so _cute_.”

“I hate you,” Geralt groaned, hiding his face behind his long white hair. He absolutely didn’t want Jaskier to see that he was _blushing_.

“Liar. You love me.”

“No, I quite definitely hate you.”

“I don’t believe you, you know,” Jaskier laughed, hugging Geralt a little tighter. “And I love you too, darling.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not in front of Roach,” Jaskier chuckled.

“Idiot,” Geralt muttered, wrapping a hand around Jaskier’s waist. “I’m so glad Val got you kicked out of Dandelions, you know? I’m so glad you showed up in front of our rehearsal room at the right moment. I’m so glad I decided I wanted you as our singer. I’m… I’m so glad I found you, love. And that you didn’t let me go.”

“Me too,” Jaskier whispered before frowning. “Oh, look at us. We’re pathetically romantic. Saccharine sweet. That just won’t do, Geralt.”

Geralt looked up only to find Jaskier’s face just inches away from his. He looked into the bard’s blue eyes, smiled  and pressed their lips together in a long, slow, loving kiss.

“I think,” Geralt said when, finally, he found the inner strength to pull away, “that it will do quite nicely. For tonight. We’ve earned the right to be pathetically romantic for one night.”

“Oh, well,” Jaskier grinned, kissing Geralt again. “When you put it like that… Tell me something even sweeter.”

And Geralt did.


End file.
